Sonderweg
by Muse of Schleissheim
Summary: Often we tell ourselves we would have done things differently. But can one really expect reality to change for them when they themselves often will not? It is difficult to change the past, when one already has a preconceived expectation of it. Perhaps it is for the better that Darth Vader has traveled to the past without his memories. Or perhaps it is worse. Only time can tell.
1. Chapter 1

The Special Path Taken by Darth Vader and All It Entails or:

Sonderweg

Chapter I: Erneuerung

He did not mean to fall with Sidious when he threw him off the edge. Perhaps the Emperor had latched onto him in one final hate-filled gambit to ensure he wasn't alone in his demise; perhaps he had simply slipped from the added weight in his weakened condition. There was no use in wondering about it.

He was falling.

Vader knew what lay in wait for him at the end of this shaft. Indeed, even if he had managed to keep his footing his death was already inevitable; the Emperor's lightning had seen to that. So he did not fear the end, rather he accepted it, embraced it even. It was not only the end of his life but the end of his enslavement to the Sith; it was the end of the torture he had put his children through for nigh on five years.

He was content with that. More than content

 _You would be so proud, Padme…_ For the first time he was thankful that both Luke and Leia had inherited their mother's disdain for authoritarian institutions and her firm dedication for doing what was right. The Empire could have been so much better, something truly great and wondrous for the galaxy, but so long as Palpatine ruled it would be nothing else than a black and decadent parasite. It was better this way, he was certain his children could give the galaxy a chance to truly heal from the madness that had plagued it since the Clone Wars.

 _You are what the Jedi need Luke, a fresh and open mind. You will make the Order what it was meant to be; a protector of those who can't protect themselves._

 _I am proud of you, my son…_

He closed his eyes as his fall took him ever closer to the bottom of the shaft, and as he experienced his final moments on this plane of existence Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith and Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleets, had one last, fleeting thought.

 _Would that I could do it again…_

* * *

After that he knew nothing.

Well, nothing that he would remember anyway.

He did not know who he was.

He was dead, that was certain. He remembered enough about life to know that this could _not_ be living. Life should not be so cold, so dark, so _empty._

He did not ask how long he had been like this. In this state, in death time was meaningless. One second was one eternity and one eternity was one second. It was small and large, infinite and finite, complete and broken all at once.

He did not remember what he had done when in life, so he could not say if he was suffering his just punishment or if this was what awaited everyone once they left the mortal plane. The second option struck him as rather depressing.

 _Who was I? What was I?_

He spent both an entire year and a single minute pondering these questions, both simultaneously. He had nothing for reference; he was formless (part of him wondered if he truly existed at all) and even if he had assumed some shape he doubted it would be relevant to him.

Either way he was still dead.

For a long time after and for a long time before he simply was. Not moving, not speaking, indeed doing nothing except for trying to entertain himself with guesses on what he had been like before his supposed demise. One cannot truly guess how long this state of affairs went; in the span of time he spent in this state of being both all of time and no time at all had passed. What was death after all if not the cessation of one's perception of time and space?

But then, as the old cliché went, something happened.

With no warning he was suddenly bombarded by what would best be described as sensation. Suddenly time was perceived, space enveloped him with all that it entailed and demanded, and he was all at once whole and empty because he could _feel_ and he knew for a fact that he _existed._

He wanted to weep, he wanted to cheer, he wanted to howl, he wanted everything and nothing because now once again he knew what it was to experience emotion.

Was this life? Was this being and existing and not being stuck in between perception and oblivion? In that moment he cherished life more than anything else, experiencing both elation that it was his and soul-consuming horror at the thought of losing it ever, ever again.

With perception and feeling came awareness, and it was with this wondrous awareness that he took in his surroundings and form. While later he would admit that he should have been more focused, in that moment he could not stop himself from gazing in awe and amazement.

It was clear that he was wearing some form of armor, though he had to question the effectiveness of it if it ever had to be worn to battle. It was overwhelmingly black, with a durasteel mantle protecting the upper chest and shoulders. What he assumed to be some sort of control panel sat squarely on his torso, its lights blinking innocently. He knew as soon as he saw it that to lose that was to die.

A great billowing cloth cape enveloped him, as was common being of the color black. He could see that he wore armored boots, and around his waist there was a belt from which hung another piece of cloth that went down to his ankles and stretched around the length of the belt.

 _A curious outfit,_ he mused, when something else grabbed his attention. It hung innocuously on his right hip from the belt; a cylinder of silver and black. It appeared mechanical in nature and handcrafted if the intricacy of its design was any indication. From its presence on his side he logically deduced that it was his, and when he looked upon he knew, somehow, exactly how to use it to its deadliest effect.

His lightsaber, he realized, a mark of his membership in the Order of the Sith Lords.

He paused, surprised. It seemed he remembered some things from his past life after all. He would have to think more on that later.

Indeed, ruminations on what he might have been would apparently have to wait, for as his attention shifted to his surroundings he saw that he was less pleasantly surrounded by other presences. Droids, he remembered, along with what appeared to be their organic commanders. What was worrisome about the situation was the fact that every single one of the droids had a blaster rifle pointed at him.

He scoffed, amusement welling up at the idea that they believed they were a threat to him in any way. Immediately after he paused, wary of his earlier reaction. It seemed that he was rather cocksure of himself; that would be something that he would need to watch for.

"Identify yourself," one of the organics asked, and as he looked he recognized his species, a Nemoidian who appeared to be of rather important rank given his mode of dress and bearing.

Once again, he paused, weighing his options. He knew without having to think about it that it would be child's play for him to fight his way out, either with his lightsaber or with the power of the Dark Side (another aspect of his past life staying with him, he mused), but discretion was the better part of valor. Besides, it was better to act diplomatically in this situation; these people, obviously soldiers of some kind, had still done nothing to harm him yet, and he should only return the courtesy for what it was.

And they could also tell him where he was.

"I'm going to ask again, identify yourself," the Nemoidian repeated, firmer this time. The Sith Lord paused, as he realized he didn't exactly know how to answer the question, as strange a predicament as that was.

Again another surge of memory welled up within him. A pale old man, scarred horribly and wrapped in midnight robes, smiling down on him in a way that was all malevolence and cunning, evil and ruthlessness. A voice, gravelly and heavy with power, reverberated in his mind.

 _I welcome thee to the Order of the Sith Lords, Lord…_

"Vader," he said, drawing himself up to his full height. It was as if the name gave him new purpose and power; as if it was the summation of everything he was and everything that was his by right. As he spoke aloud for the first time that he heard his voice, cyberized and deep as the ocean, another symbol of his power. Along with a heavy breath that could only be called a death rattle. "I am Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith. Where am I?"

* * *

Author's Note: Good evening, morning, and afternoon to all of those reading this. As promised, the rewrite of A Second Chance, Sonderweg.

For those of you who aren't quite up to par with German (like me), Sonderweg roughly translates to "Special Path". After some thinking I settled on this title for the main reason that, well, I can't quite recall a time-travel story where the traveller doesn't have his memories with him. Which means that for both us and our favorite Sith Lord, this will be a special path indeed.

Now, I'm certain many of you are asking why I felt the need to rewrite A Second Chance in the first place. It was my most popular work, it was my longest running story, and it was something new. The answer lies partly in the second item; by virtue of it being my longest running story it suffered greatly from the flaws of my writing that existed at the time. While I'm nowhere near pretentious enough to believe that my writing is or ever will be flawless, it is greatly improved from when A Second Chance started.

The other major reason is, quite simply, I didn't truly know where I was going with A Second Chance. I made the mistake of charging on ahead without preparing an actual plotline in advance. An amateur mistake, true, but one that was beginning to cripple the story. While I still have some details to iron out with Sonderweg, it is far more whole than A Second Chance was at its inception. I know what I want, I know how I want to do it, and I believe it is within my ability. Though, on that last count, I will defer to your judgement.

Before I adjourn, I will warn you. Writing A Second Chance taught me a valuable lesson; I detest writing about the Force, utterly and completely. It creates too many complications that I have neither the will nor the ability to deal with. Saying that, the Force will have nowhere near as large a presence here. It will still exist and I will not shy away from describing it, but that is it. The main focus will be the characters' motivations and how they shape them as sentient beings. That, and war. Lots, and lots of war.

With that said, I bid you adieu, and I hope that you enjoy reading this story as much as I will enjoy writing it.


	2. Chapter 2 An Offer You Can't Refuse

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars

Chapter II: An Offer You Can't Refuse

There were few things that could faze Yoda, being Grand Master of the Jedi Order would do that to a being's state of mind. He had steered the order through many a crisis from the wars against the Mandalorians and Kaleesh to the blockade of Naboo to the current war raging even now. When even the stoutest Jedi Knights began to falter, even if the entire galaxy seemed to be against them, Yoda was always there to lay a reassuring and firm hand on their shoulder (metaphorically speaking anyway) and guide them through the troubles.

Yet even he had to take pause at what he had felt entering their plain of existence.

A Sith Lord. Not that pale imitation that had killed Qui-gon, and certainly not Dooku's fledgling prancing about like she was a Sith Lord herself, but the genuine item. A being of great power and great darkness from what Yoda could sense.

None of the other Jedi had sensed it yet, but Yoda's abilities were far beyond theirs and allowed him to cast his consciousness far and wide over whole swathes of planets and stars. So far only he had found what was causing himself to feel trepidation. He needed to inform the other Masters, and he would, but first it was best to meditate and think on this dilemma. Before the idea that the Sith were resurgent had only been a theory, speculation put forth by Qui-gon before his death and only slightly verified by Dooku's rebellion. But with this there was no longer any question.

The Dark Side was casting its shadow over the galaxy once more.

Even with all the mystery surrounding this Sith, Yoda still felt that there was more to it than a simple return of the old enemy. He still felt beyond a shadow of a doubt that this Sith would soon find their way into the arms of the separatists and thus against them, but he did not sense the usual maleficence associated with the Darksiders. Certainly, the Dark Side of the Force hovered around this new figure like a thick blanket, but there seemed to be a… disconnect, for lack of a better word. Yoda did not know how to describe it. The Dark Side wanted to rally to this new champion, but did not know how. As if it was meeting an old friend gone for years, only to not recognize them at all.

It was a strange situation, for sure.

 _Troubling this is…_ he thought to himself. _Yet more pressing concerns there are. Stop for one being, the war does not._

That was a sad and true statement, no matter how much he wished it were otherwise. While Yoda would have liked nothing more than to sit in his chambers and think on this indefinitely as he would have other problems, war had a way of interfering with such activities. For a being with a lifespan such as his it was somewhat jarring dealing with these issues at such a hasty pace, but needs must.

At least the current generation was rising to meet the challenge, the diminutive Jedi thought with no small amount of pride, guilty as it may have been. There were few feelings quite like that of a teacher seeing his students finally coming into their own, even if he wished they had been able to do so in more peaceful times. One Jedi in particular had already made a rather large name for himself.

 _An energetic one, young Skywalker certainly is,_ he thought with amusement curling around him. Humans were by nature active and energetic beings, given their shorter lifespans, but Skywalker was on an entirely different level. Practically flitting across the galaxy to wherever the war seemed to be at its most intense, The Hero With No Fear had become a poster boy for the Republic's war effort. Rhen Var, Muunilinst, Jabiim, Christophsis, Skywalker had proven himself an able tactician and leader of men in every battle he participated in. Republic citizens praised him, clone troopers respected and admired him, and the separatists feared and loathed him.

While Yoda was as proud of Skywalker for his accomplishments as he was of any other young Jedi, there was also cause for worry. The Jedi were by their nature humble and not usually taken with the limelight. There was good reason for this, because as they say, pride cometh before the fall. And Skywalker had a great deal of pride.

It was almost uncanny, the similarities between him and an ancient Jedi named Revan. Both young Knights coming into their own as the galaxy was thrown into turmoil. Both rising up to the occasion to defend the Republic with all their might. Both winning great victories and the admiration of the masses.

Would Skywalker also fall to the sway of the Dark Side, as Revan had done? It was a question Yoda could not answer, much to his frustration.

"Hmph, wisdom. Much good it does me not, when most it is needed."

There was not much that could be done about Yoda's concern, other than to have faith. Skywalker was good at heart, and despite his recklessness he only wanted what was best for his fellow being. While there was disdain for certain aspects of democracy (much to Yoda's concern) and how the Republic was run, there was also a strong desire to see justice done no matter the odds. Given time and proper guidance, Obi-wan's pupil would become a fine Jedi Master one day. Perhaps even his replacement, Yoda thought wryly.

"Ah, pardon me Master Yoda. I did not see you."

The old Master turned at the voice to see young Obi-wan standing there, and he realized that in his musings he had almost bumped into the newly minted Jedi Master. He had come far in the last ten years. While Qui-gon's death would always sadden Yoda, in a twisted way it had finally allowed Kenobi to grow into his own man.

Once again, a Jedi Yoda was proud of while wishing he had been able to rise in more peaceful times.

"Worry not, Master Kenobi," he said with a grin. "An old being stuck in his thoughts, I am. Wish to walk with me, do you?"

"Of course, Master," Obi-wan said with a grin of his own. Even if Yoda was the most powerful Jedi currently in existence, he still felt like the grandfather Obi-wan never had.

For a while they walked in silence, embracing the feeling of tranquility that permeated the temple. The halls were emptier than they had been but a few months ago with the demands of the war, but the two Jedi firmly resolved to ignore the way it troubled them.

They eventually found themselves in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and after a moment of further silence Yoda finally spoke.

"Troubled you are, Master Kenobi. Speak, do you good it might."

Obi-wan blinked at the statement, but didn't bother questioning how Yoda knew what was on his mind. He was Grand Master of the Order for a reason after all.

"It's the war, Master," Obi-wan eventually said with a thoughtful frown. "We've already dealt the separatists several crushing blows, but if anything they seem more motivated than ever. The battle droids seem to keep coming without an end in sight, and separatist shipyards are building ships almost faster than they can crew them. For a bunch of supposedly disorganized Outer Rim worlds and corporations they have been remarkably resilient."

Yoda hummed thoughtfully, seeing that Kenobi's thoughts echoed some of his own views on this war. What truly rankled the old Jedi Master was how quickly things seemed to have gotten out of hand. Similar crises involving possible secession and civil war had occurred before, some even under his tenure as Grand Master, but they had never come to a head so quickly and with such lack of forewarning.

It reeked of an unknown influence.

"At work, a hidden player is. Of this I have no doubt," Yoda said in way of reply. "Too cowardly to act on their own, most of the separatist leaders are. Given assurances of victory and riches they have been."

"Do you think it's the Sith, Master Yoda?" Obi-wan asked in way of reply, his tone taking on both dread and curiosity. "The warrior who I and Qui-gon fought at Naboo certainly felt like a Dark Sider, and he was skilled too."

"Possible it is. But not a certainty. Many Dark Jedi there have been, and many more there will be," he said, and before Obi-wan could reply he continued. "But strong the Sith Order is. Several times they have been destroyed, and several times returned they have. Explain the clouding of my foresight it would, for only the Sith possess such power."

"Should we warn the Senate and the Chancellor about this?" Obi-wan asked. "If the Sith have returned, then we are all in grave danger."

The short Jedi shook his head, brow furrowed in what could be construed as frustration. "Nothing to warn them of there is. Only feelings and assumptions. Long is the memory of our Order, but not so for the rest of the Republic. See a pale ghost they would, where we would see an old enemy again returned. Wait we must, until concrete proof presents itself. As for the Chancellor… great is his presence in Jedi affairs already. Interfered with several campaigns he has, particularly with Skywalker, yes?"

Obi-wan grimaced, knowing exactly what Yoda was talking about. "You're right. Sometimes I almost find myself suspicious of how close Anakin and Palpatine are together. It makes me feel as if I'm a paranoid warden, but all the same…"

"Share your concerns I do, Master Kenobi," Yoda said as reassurance. "Unusual, the Chancellor's interest in your former student is. Right to be cautious you are. However, mistrust him you should not. A good Jedi, young Skywalker is. Find the right way, he will."

With that Yoda began hobbling away, they rhythmic _clack_ of his walking stick echoing through the room. "Find young Skywalker you should, hmm? Deployed soon, you both will be."

Obi-wan bowed to Yoda's retreating form, answering an affirmative and walking off in a separate direction. The old Jedi sensed that while he had not assuaged Obi-wan's worries, he had at least reaffirmed his faith in Skywalker.

 _Dark times these are,_ he thought to himself as he left the Room of a Thousand Fountains. _Stand united we must, if we are to survive._

* * *

"The latest petition, Chancellor."

Nodding his head in thanks Sheev Palpatine accepted the datapad from his secretary, giving it a cursory glance. On the outside he was thoughtful, every inch appearing the concerned grandfather that the citizens of the Republic loved and trusted.

In reality he wanted nothing more than to douse this petition, and whomever had sent it, in so much of his Lightning that the storms of Kamino looked tame by comparison.

But it would be unseemly as the Chancellor of the Republic to engage in such questionable activities, so he simply skimmed the datapad before setting it off to the side, possibly to be read later.

"It would seem that Fondor is once again requesting an increase in our grain exports to them. Do set up a meeting with the head of the Department of Agriculture for later my dear, I believe 4:00 in the afternoon should suffice."

The secretary, a twenty something human girl from Kuat whose name he hadn't bothered to remember yet nodded and went to make the arrangements. This allowed Palpatine a few blessed moments of solitude. He sighed explosively when the door was closed.

Never had he thought toppling the Republic from within its highest office could be so _tedious._

It honestly surprised him even after ten years in office just inefficient and frivolous the Republic's government truly was. Even with the war and his responsibilities as Commander-in-Chief there were few moments of excitement. Most of his time was spent pretending to care about the bureaucratic red tape (no _wonder_ the Jedi were so hated in the Outer Rim, if they considered something as truly ridiculous as the Department of Extracurricular Intercultural Exchange something worth defending) and the insignificant lives of the Republic's citizens.

Still, it was rather interesting directing two opposite sides of a war. Much like playing Djarik with oneself, if Djarik involved the death of millions on a weekly basis. On that note…

Informing his secretary that no one was to disturb him until he said otherwise and locking the office's door for good measure, Palpatine pulled up the most recent reports on the progress of the war from his hidden black drive. On the holographic screen there was a truly mindboggling number of files, all of them containing the various battles, skirmishes, troop deployments and locations of important figures, and scores of plans relating to every single one.

Master Yoda thought he had a heavy hand in military affairs did he? The little alien was quite mistaken on that; he didn't just have a heavy interest, he was pulling every facet of this war along with puppet strings, and the best part was everyone believed their actions were their own.

He knew he would have to change the pattern soon. He had insured that the Republic won several victories that were great enough to boost morale and confidence but not enough to truly put the Confederacy on the back foot. It would not do for the war to end too quickly; this affair needed to be as bloody as possible before he could enact the final revenge of the Sith. Perhaps a sudden counter offensive near Muunilinst would suffice, and he knew that an invasion of Kashyyyk would need to take place soon. The Force swirled around that planet with heavy intent; it would become a center of events somewhere down the line, he could see it.

Should he place Skywalker there when the time came? He felt that he had already been a bit too heavy handed with his favoritism of that boy; perhaps it would be best to relax his pressure slightly and let the Jedi Council have their way with how the boy was used in the war. Then again, perhaps he wouldn't have to exert as much pressure but still be able to achieve the same results anyway. After all, it wouldn't do if the Hero with No Fear wasn't leading the Republic's clone armies to victory now would it?

 _Though perhaps not a certain victory,_ he thought to himself as he began viewing his files on one figure in particular. It was almost entirely empty, consisting of nothing else aside from a name, a picture, and a note to add more information as it became available.

 _Darth Vader_ , Palpatine mused as he leaned back in his chair. Of all the things that had ended up in his lap these past few months, this man in particular continued to hold his attention. It was only natural though; not many beings would openly claim to be a Sith Lord, what with the near total obliteration of the order over a thousand years ago. On the one hand he was weary of this Darth Vader, as the Sith always tended to end up fighting each other just as much as they fought the Jedi. But on the other, if this self-proclaimed Sith could be swayed to join the separatist cause then he would be yet another weapon to use against the Jedi.

Though that was entirely dependent on whether or not this figure was actually useful; over the past few months the Sith in disguise had been quite surprised at the sheer lack of military acumen displayed by both the Jedi and some of his apprentice's erstwhile followers. One of the reasons Skywalker was considered a war hero was his incredible string of improbable victories and tactical daring. As far as leading soldiers was concerned, few generals could hold a candle to him at the moment.

It was therefore easy to understand Sidious' reluctance to simply throw Vader onto the board.

Perhaps a test of sufficiently minor scale was in order. Yes, he nodded to himself, it would be the safest way of gauging the worth of this Darth Vader. If he succeeded, then Sidious gained a new piece on the board. If Vader failed, then it was of no great consequence, and he could get on with the plans which actually mattered.

Briefly he used his foresight to gauge the likelihood of either outcome. It was not what he saw which surprised him, but rather the lack of any concrete image which grabbed the majority of his attention.

 _Interesting, the flow of time has only ever been this turbulent around Skywalker. Perhaps this Vader is more important than I first thought._

It could of course be a fluke; the art of reading the future was an untested one at best, and anomalies were common if his experience was anything to go by. He'd seen timelines where a simple farm boy was able to destroy a space station the size of a moon! Still, the old Sith lord had a feeling that this turbulence in Vader's future pointed to the Sith being more than just an ordinary being. Something momentous lay in store for him.

Sidious shook himself out of his thoughts. Further plans could wait for the evening. For now, he thought with a wrinkled nose, he had to look through these bills and petitions.

Truly, the worst lot was that of the high-ranking bureaucrat.

* * *

 _So that is Raxus,_ Vader thought as his shuttle began the slow descent towards the planet's surface. _It is beautiful._

Indeed, the continents which he could see were vast and verdant fields, indicating a healthy ecosystem. Where there was settlement Vader could see the slate gray typical of cities, but they were far smaller compared to the former environ. This pleased him immensely. Less settlement meant less sentients to deal with.

The world's oceans were a similar sight, consisting of huge swaths of bright blue sprinkled with white and puffy clouds. The Sith thought he could see a hurricane forming over the middle of one of larger seas, though fortunately it was far from land.

 _If this is what they have to defend, then it is no wonder the Confederates have bloodied the Republic's nose,_ he thought with a small grin. Compared to Coruscant this was a paradise.

He frowned at the thought. On reflection it was an example of his rather peculiar case. He could remember living on the planet called Coruscant, he could even scrounge up images of a stately apartment, but he had no idea why. Things became fuzzy and indistinguishable if he tried to focus beyond the basics.

This proved to be the rule for the majority of memories of this nature. Most places were clear, but as far as people and any past exploits, he was lucky to get a fleeting glimpse. The Sith counted himself lucky that this had not applied to basic skills such as speaking and writing, as things would have been much more difficult otherwise.

 _I was without doubt a warrior,_ he thought, his mind going to his lightsaber and the knowledge of how to use it. _Aside from that I know little. Why did I fight? Did I have comrades?_

 _What could have happened that I ended up in this prison of a suit?_

Questions without answers, and yet he couldn't help but ask them. The Sith lord shook his head in frustration. Not for the first time he reminded himself that it was useless to dwell on problems that couldn't be solved; the present and future waited on no one after all.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the speakers coming on. "Attention all passengers," the droid said, even though he was the only passenger on board. "We are making our final approach."

He once again looked out the window, and sure enough the shuttle had passed through the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Where before his view had encompassed the entire hemisphere, now it was limited to the sight of rolling fields interspersed with small forests. Streams crisscrossed this way and that between the various woods, and Vader also caught sight of a herd of creatures similar to gazelles hopping across the verdant landscape.

As he continued to gaze out the viewport a structure caught his attention. It was without doubt some kind of estate, built after the Alderaanian fashion. Its walls spoke of wealth and elegance, and ever slight condescension. Even from here Vader's admittedly untrained eyes could tell the structure was made of fine materials, undoubtedly shaped by the most skilled hands available. He gazed at the growing structure with distaste. The slicing edges of a warship appealed far more to him, he decided after a moment of thought.

With leisurely slowness the shuttle touched down at a landing pad, which quickly descended into an underground hangar. The hangar had a far more functional appearance than the manor, which told Vader that his host, while clearly favoring the more exquisite things in life, knew when to do away with finery and focus on what needed to be done.

When the descent finally came to a halt he rose from his seat and made his way to the exit. At the foot of the shuttle's ramp stood a protocol droid, its casing colored a meticulously polished silver. It gave him a shallow bow before gesturing with its arm. "This way please. Count Dooku is expecting you."

With little delay the droid led him to a normal sized elevator at the end of the hangar, which quickly took them back above ground and into the manor proper. From the floor counter Vader could tell that they were at the top of the building, most likely where Count Dooku kept his office and quarters. Once the elevator stopped they disembarked, the droid leading him down a couple of stately corridors adorned with various paintings and busts. The floor was clothed in rich crimson carpet and the walls paneled with the highest quality of Wroshyr wood. Once again, he longed for the halls of a warship, which even if he couldn't remember much felt like home. For him a place such as this would be worthless.

At the end of the last corridor was a pair of gilded doors, which the droid help open for him. "The Count will see you now," it said, before shutting the doors behind him. It would have been ominous if not for the fact that the droid was so unintimidating.

He took a quick glance at his new surroundings. The droid had led him to a spacious study, which appeared to be the size of a small library on its own. Dominating the far side was a floor to ceiling window which gave a pleasant view of the manor grounds and the fields beyond. Immediately under the window was a desk made from more Wroshyr wood. Idly Vader wondered how the Confederacy's head of state had gotten all of the wood, considering that Kashyyyk had declared itself in favor of the Republic and was embargoing any planet which sided with the C.I.S. Perhaps the estate was older than he had first thought.

Sitting at the desk was a man. Immediately Vader sensed the Force curling around him in the way it did with Force sensitives, and he also detected the heavy cloak of the Dark Side. As far as appearances went he played the part of a nobleman well. His hair, while white with age, was well kept, and the beard he sported was trimmed meticulously. The tunic and cape the man wore were black and brown respectively, and their simple yet well-made look gave him an air of tasteful luxury. His eyes held a bright shine, giving evidence to the sharp mind he was reputed to contain. A glass of wine sat on the desk next to him, and Vader heard the scratching of a stylus coming from the desk. A glance at the man's hands showed he was indeed holding said instrument, and was using it to write something down.

All in all, Count Dooku, the leader of the rebellious Confederacy of Independent Systems, was exactly the man one would expect to be leading a war for freedom against the Republic. Or so he appeared.

The Count continued to work, seeming to not notice Vader even with his rather obvious presence. For his part the cyborg simply stood where he was, refusing to be annoyed. It was a universal truth that politicians loved their power games, big or small.

After a minute or two Dooku finally decided to relent. "Please, do sit," he said as he appeared to sign the document with a flourish, setting it off to the side. "We have much to discuss."

Vader accepted the offer, the fine leather chair creaking slightly under his weight. It was slightly awkward due to the bulkiness of his suit, but Vader ignored it. A gout of magma flashed in his memories. He had dealt with worse, he knew.

There was another moment of relative silence, with Vader's breath seeming to punctuate its intensity. Both Force users were sizing the other up, attempting to determine who the stronger was. He did not let Dooku's age or apparent wealth fool him; those eyes held the steel look of a warrior. His opinion of the old Count improved when he realized this fact. Many politicians loved to talk about fighting the good fight, while few actually translated their words into actions. It seemed Dooku was one of those few.

The Count appeared satisfied by his own search as well, for a whimsical grin appeared under his beard. He took a sip of his wine before speaking. His voice was deep and regimented, and the Sith lord knew that each word was handpicked to achieve maximum benefit. If Vader had to give a comparison, he would say that Dooku's voice was like a mountain river; strong, flowing, and carrying multiple hidden currents.

"I must admit I was surprised when I heard about you," he said. "All of the eyewitnesses reported that you simply appeared out of thin air right in front of them. There was no flash, no great forewarning. One moment you weren't, the next you were. I had too see the security recordings before I gave any actual credence to this incident. Though it still doesn't answer the question of why you are here."

"I must admit that the circumstances of my… arrival are a mystery to me as well," Vader said after a moment's thought. "My memory becomes hazy at best before I found myself in your base. Though it is fortunate that your soldiers decided to ask questions before firing."

Vader knew it was rather risky to be so open with his amnesia, but he was not suited for deceit. Better that he simply tell the truth than risk any deception he concoct be exposed later on.

"Indeed," Dooku replied with humor. "If I am being honest I can see why. Not many would claim to be what most of the galaxy considers a relic of ancient history. Especially with the Jedi having their ears to the ground."

Vader nodded. "Perhaps, but it is the truth nonetheless."

That had been one of the first things he had done when given access to a terminal. He knew he was Sith and he knew his Sith name, but not much else. Were there other Sith in the galaxy? If so could he get to them for help? _Should_ he try and call for their help? In the end it had turned out to be a moot point. The last time there had been a considerable number of Sith in the galaxy, according to the history he had looked up, was a little over a thousand years ago. Many considered the Sith extinct. That raised even more questions about his circumstances. Was he an ancient Sith, flung forward in time through some unknown means? Perhaps he had been a member of the last incarnation of the Sith Order, and in its last days he had been volunteered in some sort of ritual designed to insure the Sith would have revenge for their destruction?

Dooku continued, oblivious (or pretending to be) to his thoughts. "In my line of work I have found it is so easy to make truly remarkable claims, yet so few have the ability to actually measure up to them. Why should I believe anything you say? Why should I even help you?"

Vader kept a stony façade. This was all part of the game. Dooku had something he needed, which was in this case the ability to provide support against the Jedi, who would come for him. The trick was to convince the old Count that any partnership they entered into would be just as beneficial for him as it would be for Vader. _It certainly didn't take him long to get to the point,_ the cyborg thought wryly.

"You are involved in a war against the Republic," he began at length. "And while it has apparently not had a military for quite some time it has still managed to revamp its war making capabilities remarkably quickly. While this on its own would not be a problem for you considering the Confederacy's own resources, the Republic has an asset you have no truly effective counter for: the Jedi Order."

Dooku stared in silence, and while Vader knew he had more work to do he had the old man's attention. "I did not spend the entirety of my time merely trying to piece together my identity, Count. Your Confederacy of worlds has kicked up a hornets' nest, and it has found itself improperly prepared for it. Entire armies wiped out within the first six months alone, vital worlds such as Muunilinst and Geonosis lost to the clone legions, and all the while your incompetent officers have humiliated you with their impotent flailing and failures against the Jedi. The Jedi, who despite their inexperience continue to learn more of the arts of war alongside their clone soldiers every day. The Jedi, whose connection to the Force has proven to be a larger factor than you accounted for. The worlds which flocked to your banner enthusiastically not six months ago now already clamor for an armistice, with some gutlessly calling for surrender. At this rate, you will be lucky if the war lasts two years."

Through it all Dooku did not flinch, maintaining an air of silent attention throughout the listing of his newly created country's various challenges and failures. It told Vader that he had heard all of this before, and instead of agonizing over it was instead attempting to find a solution to the problem.

"You make very valid points, Lord Vader," the Count replied, using his name (and title, he noted) for the first time. "The Confederacy finds itself in dire straits, and while our resources are still vast they are constantly being challenged by the ever-growing strength of the Republic. By that logic however we must be cautious with how we spend our resources, and who we put in charge of them. As you quite correctly pointed out, my generals have proven largely incompetent aside from a few examples. What makes you so different from them?"

Darth Vader paused as he considered his next words. He had cast his net, it was time to pull it in.

"You know that I am an amnesiac, with very little memory of who I am," he began, pausing only for Dooku to nod. "That does not, however, mean that I have forgotten what I am; a warrior. I remember decades of service to an empire, leadings its forces to victory after victory. I may not remember my past identity, but I do remember how to organize ships of the line, insure the proper running of logistics, and how to conduct a lengthy campaign when a short one was expected. Give me a legion of your droids and I will see a Republic world razed to the ground and the corpse of a Jedi thrown at your feet, if it so pleases you."

It was grandiose, and not to his taste at all, but Vader had studied the man whom he sought to make his benefactor. Dooku was above all a man of rhetoric, and was more liable to listen to well-crafted arguments detailing multiple points and how they related to one another.

So much like a politician, he thought with mild distaste.

For his part Dooku quirked his lips in a slight smile. "Your confidence is inspiring. But confidence alone does not make a great general. Having said that, you have convinced me to allow you an… audition. There are many minor theaters where you will be able to prove yourself as a valuable asset to my cause."

"A test, then," Vader replied. Part of him was relieved. Immediate acceptance of his proposal would have meant these Confederates were in more dire straits than they had suggested. A test meant that he wasn't joining a sinking ship.

The Count nodded before he grabbed a datapad, flicking his finger over the screen as he appeared to search for a particular item. "Indeed. It is only reasonable, as I'm sure you'll agree. Now, let us discuss the terms of your test…"

* * *

Author's Note: I will admit, most of this chapter has been written within the past few weeks. Last semester was a particularly busy and important one, so this was moved to the bottom of my priorities.

To those of you who are here, I thank you for your patience, and I am sorry that what I have at the moment doesn't have any action, which I'm sure you're all looking forward too. To that I have good news; the next chapter will be decidedly more action packed.

I do hope I am portraying Vader's amnesia with at least some accuracy. I know someone who lost their memory on several occasions, but I never asked them too many in depth questions about it out of respect for their privacy. Do let me know if there's anything I should be doing differently in regards to that.

Anyway, a belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Years to you all, and I hope 2018 gives you each new opportunities.

Til next time.


	3. Chapter 3 Of Separatists and Conquest

Disclaimer: Star Wars is owned by Disney and Lucasfilm, respectively

Ch. III: Of Separatists and Conquest

 _Aboard_ Providence _Class Cruiser C.S.S._ Ambitious

Phindar was normally a world few bothered to remember and even fewer managed to care about. Situated in the area between the Mid and Outer Rims, it was not lucky enough to have any major trade routes converge upon it, nor did it have any unique features with which to attract tourists. Phindar was, in a word, boring, and its inhabitants had long since accepted this fact.

That was before the Clone Wars.

Now the minor planet suddenly found itself the lynchpin which separated a confederacy from being mostly whole, and the grim expectation that the planet would soon be assaulted was finally being realized.

With complete surprise on their side Confederate ships leapt out of hyperspace practically on top of the Republic forces. While the ships defending Phindar were rather few in number, they had still included three _Acclamators_ among them, and should have been able to hold off the enemy until reinforcements could arrive.

Unfortunately for them, the being in charge of the Confederate ships was no ordinary commander. With no capital ship losses of his own, Vader had reduced the Republic fleet above Phindar to a single badly damaged Acclamator accompanied by a few corvettes firing futilely at their Confederate foes.

"Republic forces are in full retreat, sir," the tactical droid reported to the lone figure standing at the forefront of the bridge. "Shall we dispatch ships to pursue?"

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of droids and some organics working their stations and a deep inhalation produced by artificial breath. Finally, "No, let them flee. We don't have the ships to pursue them and maintain a blockade anyway."

"Very good, sir," the tactical droid said in reply, before rattling off various statistics such as losses.

Vader paid half a mind to the droid's report, choosing instead to focus upon the various holograms displaying the disposition of his fleet. It was nothing overtly impressive; Dooku had given the Sith no more than six ships to command, the _Ambitious_ which served as his flagship, four _Munificents,_ and a single _Lucrehulk_ carrying the majority of his ground forces. In spite of that, for the first time since coming too in that Confederate base Vader had never felt more alive. _This_ was where he belonged, striding the battlefield in triumph over his enemies and leading armies forward into the very face of danger. The intensity of battle, even a minor one such as this, sent a thrill of excitement and childish glee through the Sith lord.

That was not to say there were no downsides however, he noted sourly. While defeating the Republic ships guarding this planet had been mere child's play, the forces he had been given to accomplish his task were not the most stellar in the galaxy. While the ships themselves were of good make and performed well when used wisely, his fighter wings left something to be desired. He was not doubting their craftsmanship, far from it, but the software used to pilot the droids somewhat dulled the advantages in their designs. The chief advantage of the Confederate fighters was in numbers, and while a lone droid fighter still had a chance of taking down its enemy, they often lost more one on one dogfights than they won. This was not much of a problem when numerical superiority lay with the Confederates, but if the Republic were to ever deploy an equal amount of fighters to theirs it would be trouble.

While he had yet to see how Confederate ground forces held up to his standards, he was expecting mostly the same results. The hardware was rugged and could tackle most situations when used wisely, but once again the programming sold it short. Were that he was placed in charge of designing the algorithms that ran these machines, then they'd be a sight to behold…

Realizing that the droid had yet to leave, the Sith lord turned slightly to see it waiting patiently. "Is there something to report?"

The tactical droid nodded. "Sir, the ground forces report that they are ready to begin landing operations. Colonel Gunray asked if there were any additional parameters to the invasion that he should be aware of."

"Tell him to insure the destruction or surrender of Phindar's forces before advancing on any of their major cities," Vader said after a moment's thought. "I would like to keep them as intact as possible. However, let him know that he is to act as the situation demands and use any means he sees fit to see the planet occupied."

"At once, sir," the droid answered before moving off to deliver his message. The Sith found that he liked having the machine around, as it was extremely efficient at keeping everything organized. Though he wouldn't trust too many strategic or tactical decisions to it; privately he thought it was no surprise the Confederates were losing the engagements they were if they used tactical droids in favor of organic officers. He understood the manpower problems plaguing the officer corps, but to rely on a computer to lead an army, even if it was supposed to be able to direct troops at a local level, was folly of the highest order.

 _That's not my problem yet, he_ thought to himself. _Focus on the matter at hand Vader._

Indeed, he saw that the ships had yet to move into position to give orbital support to the ground forces. That wouldn't do; the Phindarians didn't expect him to give a fair fight, did they?

* * *

 _Phindar, Near the Capital, Two Days Later_

"AT-TE 700 meters out, looks like they haven't spotted us. Recommend setting A-4 for maximum effect."

"Roger, roger, adjusting gun to A-4. Variables?"

"Lookin good, Rock, humidity is slightly above average but well within parameters. It'll be a turkey shoot."

"Hehehehehehe~, I _love_ the smell of burning bumpkins! Can we go and collect souvenirs after they all die? _Pleeeeeeeeeeeease_?"

1st Lieutenant Dieter Bauer sighed at his gunner's antics, well used to them by now. "Yes, I suppose, but _after_ we're done with combat ops, that clear?"

"Affirmative, sir."

The sound of muffled laughter reached Dieter's ears, and he spared a brief moment to glance at his right at Corporal Bask Yutani, managing the various non-combat systems of their AAT. Noticing his superior's look, he grinned crookedly. "I don't know what's funnier, sir. The fact that our tin can shifts personality on a dime, or that it's the most efficient droid in the entire Force damned Confederate Army despite that fact."

Dieter heard a sigh from his left, and he knew his other corporal had his own thoughts on the matter. "At least Rock is better than the last piece of junk they tried to shove on us. For that matter the Duros before it also…"

Let it be known that while Alexis Hegel was a reserved man, he was also a man of his opinions, and would freely give voice to them whenever he felt the need. Which was quite often. Not that Dieter minded, he wouldn't trade his crew for an entire battalion of B2s.

"Sir, calculations have been completed, and we are in optimal firing position for a kill shot. Request permission to engage."

Dieter, reminded of what he had been in the middle of doing, cleared his throat. "Right, take them out."

"Hehe, bombs away!"

With that cheerful declaration the main gun of their AAT let loose a single shot, producing a bright flash along with a resounding _crack!_ Dieter watched on his viewscreen as the walker they had been targeting was perforated through its side before being engulfed in a fiery bloom. The crew wasn't even aware of what had killed them. Typical planetary militia.

"Confirmed kill," Dieter called out, a grin on his face. "That makes three today boys! Excellent work!"

There was a cheer from the crew, with Rock adding his own usual brand of, ah, _peculiar_ enthusiasm to the din.

"I need to give Mr. Vader a nice, _biiiiiiiiig_ hug! I get to see all the pretty colors 'cause of him!"

"Don't know about that Rock," Bask replied. "But he sure as hell is a step above the usual S.O.B.s they call officers. That Gunray fella he brought along with him isn't so bad either, for a Nemoidian."

"I wonder where they found him," Alexis mused as the tank began to move forward. They'd split off from their squadron earlier with another tank which had been destroyed earlier by an AT mine. It was time they linked back up. "Figured we would have heard of a guy who could run circles around two _Venators_ and their groupies with nothing but a _Providence_ and some frigates. Ballsy if you ask me."

"I actually saw the guy's hologram when we got our briefings. Creepy as all hell if you ask me," Dieter added his own two credits. That death rattle had been particularly unnerving. "But, he gets the job done, so I can't complain too much."

"So long as it isn't Grievous," Bask said, and the crew shuddered. There was a command no sentient wanted to find themselves assigned to; the cyborg was already infamous amongst the Confederacy's organic rank and file for his hardline stance on failure, not to mention his sadism.

"Come on, come on, _come on!_ Less talking, more shooting!" Rock shouted suddenly. It caught Dieter off guard, but after a moment he smiled faintly. In its own way the glitchy droid was trying to cheer them up. "We have a rendezvous to make and a city to blow up~!"

"You heard him, boys!" Dieter shouted as well, causing Bask and Alexis to look his way. "What the hell does it matter if we have a decent commander or not?! From what I've seen on this piece of shit they call a planet the Confederacy can win this war with its eyes closed, if those militia sods are a measure of anything."

The two other humans sported their own fierce grins. Their commander was right. What did it matter who was leading the charge? So long as they had a tank, plenty of ammo and each other, there wasn't a force in the entire galaxy that was going to stop them from letting the Republic know exactly how they felt about its so called _good governance_.

With fresh hearts (and newly eager trigger fingers), the crew of the AAT _Elise_ continued on their way, eventually linking back up with their platoon. After that was some well-earned R&R. And after that…

Well, the Blue Star wasn't going to place itself on the capital building, now was it?

* * *

Colonel Rune Gunray considered himself a patient being. Growing up in the pseudo-aristocracy of Cato Nemoidia's business world had forced him to learn patience, and quickly at that. Otherwise he would have slit the throats of half his relatives by now out of sheer frustration with their ridiculous politics. That same patience had turned out to be an excellent trait in the military, and he had quickly risen through the ranks of the Trade Federation's private army to become an officer of high standing. That patience had won him several battles against supposedly superior Republic forces, earning him great praise from his peers and superiors alike.

That same patience was being severely tested by the idiots called the Phindarian government.

"You scum," the human in the hologram spat, his face contorted in a rictus of rage. "You think you can just waltz into our home and make demands of us? This is an outrage! What gives you the right?"

"Minster," Rune began slowly, as a school teacher would with their slowest student. "Your forces have been thoroughly defeated. Every Phindarian soldier still living is either in your city or in one of our POW camps. I offer you the chance of a dignified surrender and to spare your city any further combat."

"I see through your bluster," the minster said, sneering. "The Republic will come here, and when they do you and all of your bloody droids will be annihilated! Then it'll be _you_ who accepts an offer of surrender, separatist trash!"

Rune's eyes hardened, and he dropped his mild tone. The minister was about to continue on his tirade, but Rune interrupted. "Let me make something perfectly clear to you," he said, his voice cold and firm as a glacier. "I made my offer because I was ordered to preserve your cities as much as possible. Do not make the mistake of assuming you have any real power here. This planet will be occupied by the Confederacy, and we will either do it with your willing submission or over your corpse. What is your answer?"

The bureaucrat looked stunned for a moment, but when he looked like he was regathering himself for another rant, Rune talked over him again. "I see. In that case, the Confederacy cannot guarantee the safety of you or your citizens. You brought this on yourself."

With that Rune gestured to the technician to cut the transmission. Once the hologram cut out he heaved a heavy sigh. "Idiot…"

"Sir," the tactical droid said from behind him. "Our forces are in position as you requested. Shall I have them commence the assault?"

Instead of answering the Colonel strode from his command tent. The sight that greeted him put any warholo to shame. A moderately sized city sprawled before him, small tufts of smoke rising from it like phantasmal fingers grasping for the sky. Surrounding it he could see thousands upon thousands of Confederate battle droids, from this distance looking more like an over aggressive ant hive. One good thing about having an army almost entirely made up of droids was that he could conduct a near non-stop campaign and didn't have too worry about provisions like food or clothing. A clone (or any organic for that matter) may be faster and smarter than a B1, but he also had to eat and sleep. And the time spent by the clones resting and recuperating was time spent by the Confederates gathering ammo, marching forward, and securing new positions. He'd seen several planets fall simply because the enemy forces couldn't keep up with the pace set by the Confederate commanders, who didn't have to worry about sustaining too many losses or resting their troops.

Truly, this was an army that could conquer the galaxy if it was led right.

"Have our artillery begin an hour-long barrage of their lines," he said at last, pulling out a pair of binoculars to get a better look at the city. "And have our bombers make runs on the interior. I want any formation larger than a squad blasted into pieces. Once the hour is up, our infantry will storm their positions from all sides behind another creeping barrage. The armor will sweep in behind them and knock out any problems that come up. We'll push them back all the way to the city center, and if they refuse to surrender then we'll wipe them out."

The tactical droid stood still for a moment before nodding. "Orders have been relayed sir."

Nodding in satisfaction, Rune turned back to his binoculars in time to see explosions begin rising up from the Phindarian lines. A few seconds later a piercing sound akin to a wail shrieked overhead, and he soon saw the predatory forms of _Hyena_ bombers making their way towards the city. Very soon they began dropping their own payloads, and more explosions rang out in the city streets as roads were cratered and buildings collapsed, anyone unfortunate to be inside meeting grisly ends.

Rune knew that any civilians who had fled to the capital would be put in danger by the fighting, and quite a few would likely die. But that wasn't on him. The government of Phindar wanted to cling to their pride, and it would be their citizens who paid the price. Such was the tragedy of war.

Rune continued to watch his forces work, from the beginning of the first barraged all the way to the final storming of the parliament building. Within a few hours the Blue Star was flying from the mast, and soon after that the remaining enemies within the city had surrendered. The minister who had raged at Rune before the battle began was brought before him at gunpoint, bearing the documents confirming the planet's unconditional surrender.

After a mere two days of fighting, Phindar was now in the hands of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

* * *

 _Aboard C.S.S._ Ambitious

The mood among the organic crewmen of the _Ambitious_ was a celebratory one. They had conquered a planet in two days and at minimal cost to themselves. The only thing that could have been better would have been an outright surrender from the start. The cafeteria was hosting a party, and someone had even managed to whip out some Corellian Ale. While that was technically forbidden by regulations, Vader would allow them a pass this time. After all, victory was always a thing to be celebrated. Otherwise war would be quite a dreary thing indeed.

On the bridge Vader regarded the image of Rune Gunray, the ground commander of the operation. He had delivered a swift and spectacular victory, considering that the forecasts for the battle had been on average a week. Even if his enemy had fielded mostly militia forces, it was a remarkable feat worthy of praise.

Rune concluded his report to the Sith, and he paused a moment to give a reply. "While it is unfortunate that you were unable to preserve the capital, you have still performed beyond expectations. I will be sure to note your performance in my report to Command."

The Nemoidian nodded, humbly accepting the praise. Vader hoped that they would be able to work together again in the future; such competence was hard to come by.

"Thank you, sir. When can I expect to transfer out? I can't imagine that I'll be kept on occupation duty for too long."

"Most likely when the _Ubiquitous_ arrives with the administration they plan on setting up for the planet. I can ask for you if-"

Suddenly a droid called out to Vader from its terminal. "Sir, you have a priority one message from Raxus. It's from the Presidential Office."

Vader glanced at Rune, who nodded. "I'll contact you later sir. Good luck." With a salute that Vader returned, Rune's hologram flickered out. After a command from Vader, the image of Dooku replaced it.

"President," Vader said with a nod of acknowledgement, using the count's title instead of his name. In this situation Dooku was unequivocally his superior and deserved at least some modicum of respect.

"Lord Vader," Dooku said with his own nod. "Our intelligence has acquired information that is of vital interest to your operations in the Phindar system. A Republic task force has been confirmed to be making its way towards your position. Their numbers are sadly unknown."

Vader frowned under his mask. He had expected some sort of response, but this was rather fast. The Republic must have scrambled the first available ships. "Do we have an ETA, or is that unknown as well?"

Dooku nodded. "Yes, if the report handed to me is accurate then they should be there in about twenty-six hours. We won't be able to get any reinforcements to you before then sadly."

Vader's frown turned into a scowl at this bit of news, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He'd known this had been too easy. "No worries, President. I will hold here and drive them off. The enemy will not take Phindar."

Dooku smirked. "I'm glad to see you're confident, Vader. You will need that bravado before long. There is one piece of information that I think will work to your advantage. Apparently, a Jedi is in command of the battlegroup. Considering your own situation, I thought you might be able to use this to your advantage. Good hunting."

With a nod, Dooku's hologram flickered out of existence, leaving Vader staring out the viewport towards the slowly rotating form of Phindar.

It was strange to the Sith Lord that Dooku would contact him personally to deliver this information, considering that he should be busy managing a country at war. It could be that he was simply concerned about the investment he had made, but even then, it still struck Vader as odd. Surely it would have been simpler to just have an intelligence officer deliver the message so that Dooku could focus on other matters.

 _Yet more and more questions,_ he mused. _I wonder if I will ever find answers?_

"Sir, your orders?" the tactical droid said from behind him. It had been listening to the conversation from the beginning.

The Sith shook his head. He could worry about such things later; he had to get ready to welcome his uninvited guests. He turned to the tactical droid, hand on his hip.

"Alert the crew at once; we have work to do."

* * *

Author's Note: Hello all, it's good to be posting for you again. I must say that I'm very glad to finally be out of school for the Summer, as it seems to have coincided with a new burst of inspiration. The pace of updates should pick up now that I have time (and will) on my hands to write.

Sorry if you guys were expecting a more action packed chapter, but this is really just a stop gap for the real action which is coming up. I hope you're all looking forward to being treated to a good 'ole fashioned space battle!

As always leave a review or pm with your thoughts, I enjoy hearing what everyone has to say!

Til next time


	4. Chapter 4 Fire Over Phindar

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars

Ch. IV: Fire Over Phindar

 _C.S.S._ Ambitious, _Orbit of Phindar_

The atmosphere among the Confederate forces was an expectant one. Still high on their successful conquest of Phindar, the organic personnel had little doubt within themselves that they would be able to drive off the incoming Republic forces. Even the slight numerical disparity in the Republic's favor (it was ten Republic ships, four of which were _Venators_ ). How could they lose? After all, their surprisingly able commander had a plan. Or so the rumor went.

"I must protest against this course of action, sir," the tactical droid declared once again from its place at the table. "My calculations place the odds of success at under forty percent; our best option is a tactical withdrawal."

From his place at the head of the table, Vader kept his eyes glued to the holoprojector, which showed a representation of the Phindar system. Their forces were holding above Phindar, within the outer circumference of it's gravity well. The ships were arranged in a standard skirmish line, the four _Munificents_ on either side of the _Ambitious_ , which took the central position. Behind the _Ambitious_ was the single _Lucrehulk_ , giving the impression that it was hiding behind the other ships. This was certainly how he hoped the Republic would perceive it.

"Your concern is noted," Vader rumbled, before turning his attention to the five holograms standing around the table. "Now, what news of the enemy forces?"

A human male in the Confederacy's blue naval uniform with pins marking him as a captain on his collar began gesturing at the table. "Sir. Our scouts report that the enemy has jumped out of hyperspace near the seventh planet of the system. Along with the four battlecruisers that our scanners were able to pick out, we have also identified the rest of their ships. Luck is on our side, as three of their ships are _Acclamator I's_ and thus unfit for combat. The other three are _Acclamator II's_ , meaning in terms of combat craft they only outnumber us by one ship."

There were grins exchanged by the other organics in the room at this revelation. Even if they had a plan for fighting all ten of the Republic ships, hearing that three of them would be useless for the space battle was more than welcome.

One of the other holograms, this one a tactical droid, gestured at the highlighted position of the enemy ships. "Even with numerical parity, it will be difficult to engage the _Venators_ while we only have one cruiser," it pronounced, dampening the grins of the organics. Its words were true; a _Venator_ was more than a match for a _Munificent_. From what they had learned in recent battles, it was typically considered an equal engagement between the two classes if the odds were 2:1 in the Confederacy's favor. Suddenly the enemy numbers were more intimidating.

"That is why we will be going ahead with the plan," Vader announced, grabbing everyone's attention as he began manipulating the projection. He proceeded to review the plan he had presented earlier for the benefit of the organic officers. "Our forces will hold at their current position and wait for the enemy to engage."

The table showed the enemy ships moving across the system, engaging their own line at the end of the movement. Vader continued on. "Once they have made contact we will give the impression that they are breaking our formation. The _Ambitious_ and the _Dutiful_ will slowly edge back from the rest of the formation, bowing our line and drawing the Republic ships in."

The hologram adjusted, giving life to Vader's words. The flagship and their _Lucrehulk_ slowly edged back from the line, baiting the Republic into charging headlong at them. One of the organic officer's eyebrows were slowly rising as he caught on to the plan. "As the Republic continues its charge, the four _Munificents_ will slowly begin to edge around them, until eventually the Republic ships are encircled."

Now the _Munificents_ began to move, and the Confederate formation slowly shifted from what could be described as a funnel to a closed vice, with the Republic ships in the middle of it. "Once that is done, the _Dutiful_ will launch its fighters and bombers to attack the enemy from above, while all other ships launch their reserves to bolster the encirclement. Along with this, our planet-based craft will launch from the surface and attack the enemy from below. Then we will apply pressure until there is nothing left to squeeze."

The holographic ships all did as Vader said, and the Republic's forces were whittled down by the combination of Confederate small craft and turbolaser fire from all directions. The tactical droids simply looked on while the organic officers nodded. Finally, Vader's tactical droid broke the silence. "If I may make a suggestion, sir?"

At Vader's nod, the tactical droid began. "While the plan is sound, I would make a slight change to the loadout of the _Dutiful's_ small craft complement. Even encircled, the _Venators_ are a danger to our frigates. To minimize their threat, I recommend that ion torpedoes be loaded on the _Dutiful's_ bombers. If they are able to deliver their payload, then the Republic ships will be helpless."

Vader nodded, slightly surprised. He had been planning to have that done anyway, but to be preempted by his tactical droid on this matter was unexpected. Perhaps he had been unfair in his judgement of their combat capabilities.

"I am inclined to agree with that suggestion," Vader said in reply, the other officers nodding. "Aside from that, are there any other concerns?" No reply. "Good, then to your commands. We have a battle to win."

The various holograms winked out, and Vader strode out of the room followed by his tactical droid. They were silent at first, but then Vader spoke up. "I was impressed by your initiative. I didn't think such an idea would be included in your programming."

"I merely suggested the wisest course of action, sir," the droid replied, its hands behind its back. "I apologize if it was out of line."

Vader waved the apology away. "What matters isn't who presents a plan, but that the plan brings victory."

The droid paused for a moment, its eyes flickering, before it nodded. "I shall keep that in mind, sir."

After that they remained silent the rest of the way to the bridge, conversation not reaching Vader's ears until they had stepped through the door. Immediately upon entering the tactical droid asked for a status report which was quickly given.

"Sir, enemy fleet is approaching at cruising speed. We estimate their ETA to be thirty minutes, perhaps less."

"And our own ships?" Vader asked, crossing his arms as the holoprojector showed the situation. The red dots representing the Republic ships were closing rapidly on his own fleet.

"All units report as combat ready, sir," a droid replied from its console. "The _Dutiful_ says that they will have their small craft fitted with the planned payload in approximately forty minutes."

"Tell them to double time," Vader replied. "The slightest delay could cripple us."

As the droid carried out his request, the Sith turned his attention back to the hologram displaying the unit layouts. The world around him faded away into background noise as he concentrated not on the here and now, but on the universe itself, with all of its eddies and flowing rivers of light and vast mountains formed from stars.

This was the Force, that ever-present existence which the Jedi clung so fiercely in an attempt to find a purpose to their lives. For them, this was everything.

For Vader, it was simply another instrument in springing his trap.

He navigated the truly wondrous space with unerring precision, not allowing himself to get lost in the strong currents, which even then threatened to drag him off to knowledge untold and secrets desired. They did not contain the key to victory, so he ignored them all, focusing instead on his goal.

Eventually he found them. Thousands of life forms making their own way through the currents, all of them vibrant in their own way. Only one held his attention however, how could it not when it shone so brightly as to be blinding? He moved closer, realizing the presence's guard was down. They did not expect darkness here, how could they when he had concealed himself so thoroughly up to this point? If the Force was an ocean, then the Jedi were seals, carefree and marveling at the world above the surface. And if the Jedi were seals, then he was the leviathan lurking within the deep, setting out its lure and waiting for the chance to feed.

Like ink in water he burst into the Jedi's consciousness, drinking in their sudden fear and shock. He took a moment to revel in the emotional turmoil before withdrawing just as quickly. He raced away from the shining light of the Jedi, taking note of them only to see if they were following. They were.

Soon the world came back to him, and it was with a wolfish smile that he watched as the Republic ships began accelerating with abandon, their Jedi commander no doubt pushing them onwards to put down the threat they had discovered.

 _Come, come after me little seal,_ he thought with dark anticipation. _Come so I can clamp my jaws down and feast._

* * *

This, CP-5479 (Rash) decided, was going to be an _interesting_ day.

For one thing, the launch orders had been given a full twenty minutes before they were supposed to be, causing quite a bit of confusion amongst pilots and mechanics alike. They were pros however, so the fighters were out before too long.

Another thing that confused him was that, unlike they had planned, the fleet was charging headlong at the Clankers, their guns already traversing to pick targets. It was so unlike General Secura, who was known for being cool and collected even when the chips were down. Something must have spooked her.

 _It's not like the Seps will last long either way_ , he thought. _With just one cruiser there's no way they can hold the orbit. This'll be a turkey shoot._

"All wings, report in," the voice of the flight leader echoed through his com, breaking Rash from his thoughts. He listened as the various squadron commanders sounded off, detecting the eager anticipation they were all sharing. It was time to scrap some Clankers.

"Echo-3, you're with me," another voice, this one belonging to one of his squad mates, came through. "First round of drinks says I get more than you today."

Rash grinned. He'd take that bet. "Copy Echo-4, and I look forward to you buying!"

Laughter was the response, until their squadron leader cut in. "Cut the chatter you two, enemy fighters have been sighted up ahead so stay sharp! We're going in with formation alpha. Also, Echo-3?"

"Yes sir?" he asked, wondering what the lead wanted with him specifically.

"When you buy the first round, make sure to include a Corellian Ale for me."

An indignant splutter was his only reply, while the rest of the squadron laughed. It soon cut out when they were able to make out the red ion trails from the _Vulture_ fighters. There were thousands of them, and they were closing fast.

"Here they come boys! Look alive!"

Numberless blue and red shards of energy flashed across space in an instant, while numerous fighters on both sides ceased to exist in brief flashes of steel and flame. Rash lost sight of his squadron in the initial clash, though the readouts showed they were all still alive. It was just him and Echo-3 in the melee, and it was chaos.

Smaller dogfights soon began to form, involving anywhere from two fighters to two dozen. For their parts Rash and his partner flew in a crescent formation, keeping their eyes out for any targets of opportunity. Meanwhile the com had become a chaotic mishmash of reports, callsigns, and death cries.

"Blue-3, Blue-3, he's on your six!"

"I can't shake the bastard, he's locked on tight!"

"Gold-2, Fox 1! Fox 2!"

"Stay in formation, Red-5!"

"Kriff, he's on me, someone- AGH!"

Rash was able to tune out the calls that didn't relate directly to him and his squadron, instead keeping an eye on his scopes. He soon found his first target of the day, and his _Torrent_ hungered for blood.

"Echo-4, I've found us a target, two Tri-fighters below us at 2'oclock. Let's give em a warm Republic welcome."

"I'm right with you, Echo-3. Hit 'em hard!"

The two fighters swooped down like hawks on the wind, their talons replaced with high-powered laser cannons. The droids were none the wiser as they searched for their own targets, and before long they were naught but debris floating through space. The Republic fighters soared by triumphant, already looking for a new kill to make.

It soon became apparent to the Republic pilots that the separatist fighters were not operating with their usual numerical superiority. There were thousands of droid fighters, yes, but with the ships the seps had deployed for this battle they had expected _tens_ of thousands.

 _Maybe the defense fleet did a number on them in the previous battle?_

Regardless, Rash and his wingman continued their deadly routine, scoring several more kills (though to their mutual chagrin they remained at a tie). Slowly the number of droid fighters began to drop even further, their case not being helped when Rash scored three kills at once through a lucky missile barrage on a trio of _Vultures_.

Suddenly the droid fighters began withdrawing from their dogfights, with many being picked off from behind as they raced away from their enemy. Rash was puzzled for a moment, but grinned when he saw the droids were running back to their capital ships, who even now were backing away from the onslaught of their own cruisers. None of the enemy frigates had been destroyed yet, but they were being pushed to the side. As for the _Providence_ and _Lucrehulk_ in the middle, they were putting up a desperate fight while slowly edging away from the Republic ships. They weren't quite breaking, but they were getting closer to it.

"We've got them on the backfoot!" he shouted into the general com. "Hit 'em with everything you've got! For the Republic!"

There was a roar of approval as the swarm of Republic fighters raced forward, eagerly joining their capital ships in the fight. As Rash and his partner regrouped with his squadron, a peculiarity of the separatist fleet caught his attention.

 _Strange, I've never seen them use a half-crescent formation before._

Putting the observation to the side as irrelevant, Rash grinned as he and his squadron entered a steep dive, coming down on the _Providence_ and her fighter screen and spraying forth unforgiving blue bolts on their enemies.

And ever so slightly, the separatist line bowed in and around their unsuspecting prey.

* * *

 _C.S.S._ Ambitious

The bridge was a cacophony of various alerts and called out reports. Droids worked resolutely at their terminals while organic officers rushed to and fro, occasionally leaning over a select droid's shoulder to peer closer at some readout or algorithm. The organic crewmembers, being somewhat green, were visibly nervous and stressed as they did their work. They even bumped into each other now and then, so engrossed were they in their work. But for all that, the _Ambitious_ kept operating smoothly, a testament to the good training the organic crewmen on the bridge and throughout the ship had received and to the straightforward efficiency of the droids working hard at keeping the ship going.

A major factor in the ship's stellar performance (even as she feigned weakness and pulled back, she had managed to devest a _Venator_ of half its main guns) was the towering figure standing in the center of the bridge, attentively dealing out orders as the situation required. The tactical droid stood next to him and doled out orders directly related to the _Ambitious_ herself, allowing Vader to direct the fleet battle with more attention than he otherwise would have done.

The Sith lord jabbed his finger at a particular area of the Confederate formation. " _Quicksure_ and _Strikefast_ are veering too far from the planned route. Have them correct immediately."

A communications droid sent the orders, and a moment later spoke up. "Sir, _Quicksure_ and _Strikefast_ report that their shields are having trouble holding up against enemy fire in their current positions. They say they cannot hold where they are now."

Vader shook his head. "Tell them to siphon power from non-essential systems to bolster their shields if necessary. If we can bear the brunt of the enemy's barrage they can hold on a little longer."

As if to punctuate the Sith lord's point the bridge shook ominously as azure turbolaser bolts struck across the ship's prow. The shields held, though it was obvious they were under severe stress, and soon a retaliatory volley was fired from the _Ambitious'_ own batteries.

It was proving rather annoying to get the organic captains to keep to the plan, though he could understand why. He was an unknown individual whose skill in command they had only limited knowledge of; he too would be at least somewhat leery of following risky orders given by someone whose competency he hadn't seen concrete proof of.

An organic technician called out to him this time, his voice grim. " _Ardent_ reports that their shields are down to fifteen percent, they're requesting – scratch that, _Ardent's_ shields are down, they're taking damage!"

Sure enough, the _Munificent_ in question had minor explosions breaking out across her prow. She was barely hanging on, and Vader frowned as he saw the portside wing (and a good chunk of the ship's turbolasers and tertiary engines along with it) break off from the ship. He knew it wouldn't be long before the other ships began suffering damage as well.

 _Can we hold?_ he asked himself. _Have I overstepped myself?_

It would be beyond embarrassing to retreat from his first battle, after he had promised such an easy victory to Dooku no less. Even more than that, it would be tortuous to have his only taste of the war end with such bitter defeat. He had only just begun to savor the rush of battle, and he wanted more. To have it ripped from him so soon-

"Sir, our ships are in position. The enemy is encircled!"

Vader blinked once at the statement, and then grinned. It seemed the Force was with him today.

"Message to all ships. Execute 'Rat in the hole'."

"Yes sir!" a droid replied, sending the message. A sense of anticipation hung in the air of the _Ambitious._ The moment that would turn this battle into a victory had finally arrived.

Rash blinked rapidly. Even with the climate-controlled suit, he was sweating profusely from nervousness and tension. It was everything he could do to weave his V-19 through the storm of droid fighters that had suddenly appeared. It had all started when the enemy ships had closed themselves in a circle around their own fleet. This normally wouldn't have been a problem in a space battle, since ships in space weren't consigned to a single horizontal plain. However, it did seemed to be more droid fighters than there were airspeeders on Coruscant.

* * *

"Fierfek, where'd all these fighters come from?!"

"This is Blue-3, my squadron's totally KIA! I need backup from somebody!"

"Red-7, watch your tail, watch your tail, he's- damnit, Red-7's down!"

Rash grimaced at the chaos raging on the comm. Any semblance of cohesion in the Republic fighter screen had broken down as they were swarmed by a force of fighters five times the size of their own. It wasn't the numerical disparity that was the cause of it, rather it was the sudden and surprising nature of the attack.

 _We were had,_ he thought to himself. _This entire battle has been nothing but a setup to lure us into this deathtrap._

His HUD suddenly tinted as a massive explosion burst out amidst the chaos, and with a feeling of shock he realized that they'd just lost the _Wayward Haven,_ one of the _Acclamators_. A quick check revealed that all of their ships were suffering damage, as enemy bombers had taken advantage of their numerical superiority and surprise to launch runs on the Republic ships. Quite a few of them were armed with ion torpedoes, and a couple of _Venators_ were beginning to drift even though they appeared to be in fighting shape. They were already being boarded from what he could see.

"Echo-3, you alright in there?"

It was his wingman Echo-4, and he never thought he'd be so happy to hear a familiar voice. "I'm here Echo-4. You heard anything from the squad?"

There was a short and heavy silence before Echo-4 replied. "All KIA in the initial wave."

"Damnit…" said hoarsely. It was every pilot's worst nightmare to be the only survivor of their squadron. They were like your family, the people you ate with, slept with, and spent your down time with every single day. A feeling of emptiness came over him.

"Hey, we're still here Echo-3, and we've got a job to do," Echo-4 said, the sadness making his voice raw. But it was also determined. "Also, I don't know about you, but I sure as hell don't plan on dying today. Either that, or I plan on making the tinnies regret the day they killed me."

Rash laughed weakly. His partner was right. "Copy that, Silo," he replied, breaching protocol and using his brother's nickname.

A voice suddenly came in over the channel, and Rash realized it was from the flagship. "Any available fighters, we have a new confirmed force of separatist small craft making their way from planet side. I say again to any available fighters, we have a new force of separatist small craft heading up from Phindar. Point defenses are overwhelmed, the capital ships won't be able to stop them on their own."

There were a few confirmations and callouts registering that someone was responding to the call, but there were very few of them.

"Control, this is Echo-3, Echo-4 and I will move to intercept new hostiles," he said, and a light blinking on his HUD showed that his wingman approved of the idea.

They would most likely die, but at the very least they'd get to choose how they went out. Hells, maybe they'd even make a few kills.

Angling their fighters to meet up with the others moving to intercept he newcomers, both Echoes 3 and 4 steeled themselves for what they knew would be their final flight, regardless of whatever bravado they shared with themselves and the other clone pilots around them.

His radar showed multiple contacts up ahead of him, and Rash could see the red ion trails of the droids fighters rushing towards them. There were far more droid fighters in that one group than there were in the ragtag flight of Republic fighters moving to intercept.

"See you on the other side, boys!" someone shouted. "For the Republic!"

The two formations met, and the clone pilots fought with all they had. Each man that had flown to that part of the battlefield scored at least three kills before going down. But, in the end, they all did go down, Echo-3 the last among them. Even as his fighter fell apart under fire he rammed a _Vulture_ out of sheer spite, the words of _Vode An_ on his lips.

But it wasn't enough. Even as Rash's group fought and died many of the droid fighters and bombers simply went around them, aiming directly for the Republic capital ships. The _Hyena_ bombers unleashed their deadly payloads, and the _Vulture_ fighters swept up what remained of the Republic's own small craft.

The Republic capital ships desperately fought on for another hour before they were all incapacitated in some manner. Their efforts severely damaged three of the Confederate frigates, with two of them requiring a month in drydock before being considered fit for active duty while the other had too be scrapped.

Soon all of the Republic ships which had participated in the attack were either drifting wrecks beyond repair or in the process of being boarded by Confederate battle droids. Most of them fell quickly, the weight of the droids' numbers proving too much for the security complements to bare. Resistance was fiercest on Aayla Secura's flagship, where she and her troops fought off the droids with particular vigor. It took Darth Vader himself boarding the ship along with a full regiment's worth of battle droids to finally quell resistance, though they paid dearly. Half the droids which had boarded the ship were completely scrapped, and Vader sustained a grievous wound to his shoulder before killing General Secura. It was only the death of their beloved general which broke the morale of the clones, and they surrendered soon after.

Against all expectations, the C.I.S. had beaten back the Republic's attempt to retake Phindar. It was soon after the battle that Confederate reinforcements arrived, completely securing their hold on the system. For the price of three frigates they had taken a key location in the war and robbed the Republic of seven fighting ships. Not a bad trade by any standard. But by far the most important gain for the C.I.S. in this battle was the service of Darth Vader.

Immediately upon his return to Raxus he was given a hero's welcome, greeted by the thundering cheers of the planet's citizenry upon his disembarkation from his ship. It was not every day that the Confederate citizenry received news of such victories as what Vader had achieved. Dooku himself met him at the landing platform at the head of a full honor guard to conduct the cyborg to the parliament building, with cheering crowds lining the streets on the entire way. Upon their arrival at the building, Vader was presented with a datapad containing a commission as a Rear Admiral in the Confederate Navy. He signed without hesitation, to the deafening cheers of the crowd.

On that day the Confederacy gained a Rear Admiral and nascent war hero to lead the fight against the Republic, while the Republic gained a new enemy to fight in its war to restore order. What no one realized on that day, however, was that a new path had been set upon. A special path, which would see the orgy of chaos and destruction gripping the galaxy only intensify to heights even Darth Sidious had not imagined. And on the other side of this path, the galaxy would emerge completely changed from how it had begun, for better or worse.

But for now, there was none of that. There was only the Rear Admiral, and his new role to play in the war. And play it, he would.

* * *

Author's Note: Good afternoon everyone! I hope this update finds you well.

I will be the first to admit that this chapter is a bit of a rush job, but frankly I didn't want to spend anymore time on what was only a stepping stone to the juicier parts of the story. One of the complaints I received while writing A Second Chance was that I devoted far too many words to describing minor events that didn't hold much relevance to the story. Case in point, the fact that the Battle of Naboo took two whole chapters while it only involved about ten or so ships. It quickly bogged down the story, which I only realized in hindsight. So, this is my attempt to circumvent that, rough around the edges as it is. If you guys have any suggestions on how I can find a balance between maintaining the story's quality while economizing on how screen time is used, I would much appreciate it.

On a different note, I've recently started watching the Clone Wars to see if there any elements I can use to enhance the story. Not bad for a kids' show, but by God do Padme and Satine make me want to rip my hair out in frustration. For people who say they want the war to end, they sure do a lot to make it harder for the Republic to actually fight and achieve victory.

But enough of that. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I look forward to your comments and thoughts.

Til next time.


	5. Chapter 5 New Job, Old Problems

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars

Ch. V: New Job, Old Problems

Commander Bly's breathing was erratic as he loaded a fresh gaspack into his rifle, barely paying heed to the red blaster bolts whizzing by his position. He was down to his last couple of gaspacks, and he knew that many of his men were faring little better. To make matters worse the Seps had committed a whole regiment's worth of reinforcements, vastly outnumbering the already depleted Republic security teams.

His eyes hardened. Best make the rest of his shots count then.

With precision born from a decade of training he emerged from his cover, only exposing his body enough to aim the DC-15A at an approaching SBD. Sighting up, he depressed the trigger, releasing a burst of three shots directly into the droid's faceplate. The first bolt didn't make it through the armor, while the second left a noticeable scorch mark. The third sadly hit to the left, doing little aside from singing the paint.

As if noticing him for the first time the SBD turned slightly in his direction and raised it's arm mounted blaster cannon, releasing a mechanical growl. Before it could fire however the droid (and the other two standing on either side of it) were cut down from behind by a blue lightsaber. Their mechanical forms fell, revealing the beautiful and shining blue skin of Aayla Secura, Commander Bly's General.

The 327th Star Corps' beloved Goddess of Victory.

He and the men with him let loose a cheer, but immediately faltered when she whirled around, desperately parrying a strike similar to the one she had just executed. She leapt back, attempting to gain some breathing room, but a black armored figure straight out of Bly's nightmares relentlessly pursued her, swinging his crimson blade with unerring precision.

"Commander!" Aayla shouted, drawing his attention. "I'll hold him off, get the men to the escape pods!"

 _Like hell we're leaving you here,_ Bly and his men thought as one.

Instead he shouted, "Flanking positions, help the general!"

As if they would leave her, the woman the 327th owed loyalty to above all others. The woman the men respected and adored. The woman Bly loved unconditionally.

The men moved into position with textbook efficiency, sighting their rifles on the monstrosity daring to attack Aayla Secura in sight of her troopers. Before they could let plasma fly however the armored being kicked the Rutian Twilek away, waving his hands at the troopers who were all flung against the walls by an unseen force. Several sickening cracks were heard, and Bly himself was left dazed by the impact.

He was just cognizant enough to see his general scream in outrage and leap at the black armored thing, her lightsaber dancing like Bly had never seen. The black figure seemed ready to meet the challenge, countering each movement of the Jedi Knight's lightsaber with his own. But it was clearly surprised at her veracity. If the towering figure dueling her was a mountain, then Aayla was the river which was going to break him at the foundation.

Bly's faith in his general never wavered, and indeed seemed to be vindicated when she slipped past the monstrosity's guard and stabbed its shoulder. The clone commander felt elation. Their Goddess of Victory would come through, as she always had.

Funny how quickly elation could turn to despair.

With a growl appropriate to a demon the figure grabbed Aayla by the neck in spite of the lightsaber protruding from its shoulder. The Twilek desperately tried to claw the leather clad hand off her neck, but it was to no avail. With mocking slowness, the being held up it's deactivated lightsaber right over the Jedi's heart. Bly tried to move, to reach his blaster, to stand and rush the armored giant, something, anything. But he was powerless, his damnable body refused to move, and he could only watch.

"May the Force be with you," the abomination mocked, and with a _snap-hiss_ a crimson blade pierced Aayla Secura directly in the heart. Her eyes widened and she let loose a gasp of pain, before her body went limp in her killer's grip.

He was jolted back into reality by the crippling pain of an electrostaff to his midsection. He was spat upon by a separatist interrogator demanding the information he had access to as a Commander in the GAR. He was assaulted by the putrid stench that permeated his cell, a result of his refusal to cooperate.

Through it all, Bly screamed in heartbreak at this inescapable hell he now lived in. A hell without his beloved general leading the way.

* * *

 _Confederate Ministry of War, Raxus Secundus_

Like any important government facility, the Ministry of War on Raxus was that peculiar blend of fine, classical architecture meant to awe the mind and the sort of functionality unique to governments which borders on scrimping. Marble columns and facades outside held within them a maze of offices, conference rooms, and study halls. Originally meant to house the command structure of Raxus' local defense forces, the building was one of the first of its kind to go through a complete overhaul so that it could adequately service the needs of the new and vast Confederate military. This had resulted in the aforementioned peculiar blend, as the original stately offices from the old days were now not a few hallways down from tight, spartan rooms jammed tight with a desk and other various items considered necessary to any officers residing in them. This led quite a few officers feeling like they were a minor bureaucrat on a dust ball, and not commanding a galactic military. It couldn't have gone any other way, really, as the Confederate Army and Navy had more or less appeared overnight, and there was simply no way to both give the officers the stately workspaces they felt they deserved and build the adequate number of them at the same time. Hence, the cramped offices, which everyone complained about in their own unique way.

It was to one of these cramped offices that Darth Vader had been shoved off to, owing to the fact that he had quite literally come out of thin air and there was nowhere else to put him. Personally, while he felt his space could be larger, he appreciated the functionality of its décor and the no-nonsense attitude of its arrangement. Besides, it wasn't like he would spend too much time here. He was now actively fighting a war after all.

"Admiral Vader," a protocol droid chirped from the door. "The holodisks you requested, sir."

"Excellent," Vader replied, "Leave them on the desk, I shall sort them later."

 _When my shoulder doesn't feel like it's being soaked in lava,_ he thought with a frown. He rolled his arm slightly to try and alleviate the pain, but that only made it rub against his suit and cause more discomfort. _Blast this contraption and whoever put me in it._

His discomfort was his own fault, he supposed. After all, he was the one who had recklessly charged against what he had later found out to be a seasoned Jedi Knight. He was lucky she hadn't stabbed him in a more vital area, thought that was subjective. After all, even if he hadn't died, he'd still been _stabbed in his fracking shoulder._

He had learned some valuable lessons. For one, it appeared his connection with the Force was muted, something that in hindsight he should have realized before, considering that the power of a Dark Side user was directly related to the power of their emotions. At the moment, he did not have any especially powerful memories laced with anger or passion to draw from. He knew that he could partially alleviate this through meditation, but that would be no substitute for the genuine item. Until further notice, he should be far more cautious when engaging the more powerful members of the Order.

Second, and this related to the first lesson, was that he needed to exert more control over his battle lust. True, it could be used as a source of fuel for his more arcane abilities, but there were risks with relying on such a mindset when he was in charge of a fleet. It was this which had driven him to accompany the boarding party and engage the Jedi Knight, and it could have cost him dearly if things had been different. The role of a commander in the field was to direct the troops where they needed to be and give them the objectives, not to wade into the thick of combat and put the command hierarchy at risk. Until he could be surer of victory in such situations, it was best to just overwhelm the enemy with battle droids. That, or acquire a few higher end models such as Magna Guards for himself. Those were incredibly expensive however, so other options should be looked into if that didn't fall through.

Those were things he would need to work on immediately. A more long-term problem had presented itself with his recent commission as well. As an admiral, he would inevitably be drawn into the politics of the CIS, no matter how much he wished otherwise. It would be important to gather allies in both the military and civilian government, mostly because he didn't want to rely too much on Dooku. Someone not informed on such matters might question why when the count had been so generous to him already, but history held plenty of examples on why trusting Dark Siders unreservedly was a bad idea.

The problem was, he had no idea who to approach.

Like the military the CIS government had appeared practically overnight, and while quite a few of its officials had formerly worked for the Republic almost as many were hastily drawn in to fill the gaps created by their leaving the galactic government. In other words, many officials in the CIS, including Senators, were rather unknown quantities, especially to him.

That helped to partially explain the piles of data disks on his desk, even though Vader had not truly been able to execute his duties due to his current lack of a command. A profile of every prolific Confederate MP, military officer, bureaucrat, and even members of the Council lay on his desk. He had been spending the majority of his time reading through them when he wasn't reading up on the fluid situation at the front and Confederate ship and droid designs. What he'd found was most definitely a mixed bag.

On one hand, the Confederates had managed to grab no small amount of talent for their civil and military services. Marked for further investigation were the profiles of individuals such as the famed Admiral Trench (currently a Confederate Vice Admiral) and more infamous General Grievous (officially the Chief of Staff of the Armed Services). He'd also prioritized the dossier of the officer who'd worked with him at Phindar, Rune Gunray. If nothing else, he'd serve as a valuable partner on any future campaigns, especially with his recent promotion to Brigadier General. And while there were fewer civil servants that had caught his attention, there was no shortage of candidates there either. Individuals such as the widely respected Mina Bonteri and the newcomer to politics Seth Gilboa were also marked for further investigation.

He placed particular emphasis on Trench and Grievous. The former's field career was as colorful as it was accomplished, and Grievous' leadership of the Kaleesh armies in their war with the Huuk was legendary in the Outer Rim.

But where there was talent, there was also incompetence and corruption. The entire Confederate Council disgusted him as nothing more than profiteers who cared little for the responsibility their sovereign offices carried. The majority were shortsighted, greedy, pathetic organisms, and Vader highly suspected that Dooku had only recruited them for their vast wealth and the ease with which they could be manipulated and controlled. He would do well to avoid these individuals unless he could find some sort of use for them. The same applied to a worrying number of military officers; far too many of them were former corporate enforcers for his liking.

He frowned as a minor headache made itself known. This was something that had been occurring with frequency ever since the battle at Phindar. All of these individuals seemed to arouse different feelings within him that he could not identify a reason for. Respect, disgust, loathing, it was a rather heady mix. Most likely they were similar to whoever he had known in his old life before coming here. The Sith lord shook his head.

Ruminating about questions he couldn't find the answer to was pointless.

It would require time to form his own base of power from reliable people; for now it'd probably be best to focus his efforts on examining Confederate ship designs, which were a headache unto themselves…

A chime from the comm built into his desk caught the Sith's attention, and without looking he accepted the call. "Yes?"

He should probably have an adjutant to help with things like this, but one couldn't have everything they wanted.

"Sir," a clipped voice with what he thought was a Rutian accent spoke. "Vice Admiral Trench requests you come to his office immediately."

Vader's eyebrow was raised as he focused his attention on the speaker. Unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. "Very well, inform him I shall be there shortly."

Well, it seemed he'd get to meet one of his persons of interest sooner than expected.

* * *

It had been a bit of a walk to make his way to the Vice Admiral's office, whom unlike Vader had been given one of the much coveted 'Penthouses' (the nickname for the older, more spacious offices). The male Harch was well deserving of the work space, however. His career spoke for itself; the name Trench was practically a byword for CCM (Cloaking CounterMeasures) and the Firepower Conservation Doctrine. He was also known for his meritocratic approach to command and fair treatment of enemies once they had surrendered, a sadly rare trait among Confederate commanders at the moment.

Trench was quite large for a Harch, especially a male, and where a normal member of his species would have been made to seem smaller behind the large mahogany desk it only seemed to add to Trench's pervading presence. He sat with a straight back, clasping his middle hands together while the others rested on top of the desk. His six forward facing eyes were all focused on Vader, their red gleam only adding to the spark of analytical cunning and intelligence which lay within his cranial exoskeleton. His mandibles twitched while the fangs located within the insectoid's mouth clicked together, muttering some phrase in the Harch language. His custom made blue admiral's uniform only added to the Harch's sense of sophistication, while the fur collar lay upon his shoulders like the mantle of a king.

Vader offered a salute to his immediate superior, the motion coming easily. While he hadn't had the chance to serve under the admiral, he nonetheless looked forward to it. This was a being the Sith knew he could respect.

Trench's fangs once again clicked, and his mouth worked in an effort to form his words. "At ease, Rear Admiral," he spoke in a deep and full voice, like Dooku, but there was a noticeable lisp to his words. If his narrowed eyes were any indication, he knew there was a lisp and was highly annoyed at it. "I hope I haven't inconvenienced you with the summons."

"Not at all, Excellency," Vader replied. He decided to offer the Harch an out with his language problem. "If you wish, I am perfectly capable of understanding your native language. While the Force comes with quite a few problems, it can be useful in certain situations."

Vader was certain that Trench was giving him the equivalent of a raised eyebrow at the sardonic statement, but all the same began speaking not in the words of Basic but a series of clicks that most non-Harch would never understand even with a translation device. "You have my thanks then, I must admit your species' mammalian sounds are difficult to imitate. This will save me a great deal of embarrassment. How are you acclimating to your duties?"

"Well enough, for all that I have had very little to do with the lack of a command," Vader replied, wondering what the true purpose of this meeting was. He knew the Vice Admiral hadn't called him up to exchange pleasantries.

"Yes, I suppose that would be the case, wouldn't it?" Trench continued in his species' language. "Before we continue I'd like you to indulge me, if it isn't too much trouble."

Vader nodded, curious, though he was beginning to become slightly annoyed. His time was valuable, and a thing not to be wasted.

"I have a simple question, you see," Trench continued, keeping his eyes focused directly on the cyborg. "What is your opinion of this war? More specifically, do you believe the CIS will be defeated, within the year if some people are to be believed?"

Vader was initially silent as he analyzed the question. It did not take him long to come up with an answer which he believed to suit the current facts. Technically, the "correct" answer. However, he had to wonder if it was the "right" answer.

Was Trench testing him? Was his loyalty to the CIS being evaluated so early? It would not surprise him; a new person of interest enters the war with no warning, and within two weeks is promoted to Rear Admiral based on the recommendation of the President alone? Suspicious was an understatement. He would likely be doing the same thing in Admiral Trench's shoes.

There were two answers he could give; the correct answer, or the right answer. Based on Trench's reputation, he would most likely appreciate the former more than the latter, however just because it was the admiral asking didn't mean that the answer was meant for him. There could be others watching.

In the end, he decided it would be best to give the "correct" answer, the one based on the reality of the situation. Trench's reaction would tell him everything he needed to know.

"If things continue as they are, then we will suffer a military defeat within a year, two if the Republic does not maximize its advantages. The reason for this is simple; the constant defeats being suffered by our fleets, the rash and wasteful use of resources by commanders on projects of dubious utility, our dismal interactions with neutral systems and potential allies, and the frankly pitiful tactics which make up current Confederate doctrine. The Confederacy has the means to achieve victory, but only if we conduct this war in a completely different manner than has been the norm."

Trench's eyes remained focused on Vader throughout his reply, his mandibles hardly twitching. To a lesser man, it would have been unsettling. Vader simply returned the stare.

After a moment Trench's mandibles clicked audibly, and the Sith thought he saw something flicker in the Harch's red eyes. They broke eye contact when Trench reached into a drawer and withdrew a datapad, setting on his desk.

"A good answer, but it is easy for a person to point out there is a problem. It is another matter entirely to propose viable solutions to fixing it."

Vader nodded, seeing the prompt for what it was. "I would start by focusing on resource allocation. Initiatives such as the _Malevolence_ are not things we can afford, at the rate things are going. Focusing on the production and refinement of weapons which we know work is the best option. It's foolhardy to ignore a tried and true tool after all, especially in a time of need."

"So, you would ignore a new weapon simply on the basis that it might not be worth the effort and risk to test it?"

"Not at all," Vader replied. "Rather, I would focus on weapons and devices which have a bearing in reality. For example, mounting turreted proton cannons on the _Providence_ class would greatly improve their power projection in the field, providing us with a ship that could match the _Venator_ for speed and the _Lucrehulk_ refits for firepower. Thus, the Navy gets a ship better suited to its requirements while the Treasury only has to fund a simple refit of an existing class instead of the development of an entirely new model."

Trench nodded, this time definitely looking impressed. "You have certainly been studying up on the war so far, I see," he said. "I must admit the idea of turreted proton cannons on our heavier ships is an interesting one. Something to look into later. Now, I read over your orders for the occupation of Phindar, and I found them sensible. However, hypothetically, what would you have done if the Phindarians had offered fiercer resistance? What if resistance groups had sprung up that began hindering your ground forces in a guerilla campaign?"

 _This being is certainly in-depth. He's probably already thought of several different answers to his own question, and I'll be judged based on which ones I answer closest to._

"I would start with the capture of a few of the more prominent groups, making an example out of the most belligerent ones. This would show that we are capable of finding them and that we will overpower them when we do. But this would only partially demoralize any resistance. To truly dig into their will I would make them believe continued resistance would endanger the lives of their loved ones. To do this without appearing overtly oppressive would require a bit of finesse. Taking in refugee families, even those who have members suspected of being rebels, and providing them with aid and shelter would be best."

Trench's mandibles clicked. "You would spend Confederate resources on aiding the families of our enemies?"

"It is well within our means," Vader said. "The nature of the droid army means that more supplies could be devoted to any such initiative. Taking in these families puts them within our control, as bargaining chips and potential hostages. And they won't even realize it. Most insurgents will be paralyzed by the simple possibility of us harming their families, while to the outside observer we maintain the moral high ground and even appear magnanimous. This approach would take a longer time to see full effect, but in the end the Confederacy maintains credibility and doesn't have to spend ammunition on disgruntled farmers and workers."

Trench's mandibles worked for a moment, and his eyes had a glazed look in them. Most likely going over how any such operation might play out. Soon he had a reply.

"Interesting… I have not had this sort of approach proposed before, but there is merit. However, what would you do if it didn't work out? More radical resistance groups could attack the supply convoys even if it meant risking the survival of their loved ones."

"It is as you said, Vice Admiral," Vader replied. Trench felt a cold thrill in his soul at the flat tone. "They are the enemies of the CIS in the end. It matters not how many of them die, only that they cease to resist."

The Harch was still for a moment, blinking in surprise. It was clear to Vader that the coldness of the answer had been unexpected. But it was still his honest opinion. He was a pragmatist, not a saint.

"Indeed," Trench said after a moment of silence. The Sith sensed approval radiating from him. Reluctant approval, but approval nonetheless. "I believe I have a grasp of your character now."

"And how do I measure up to your expectations?"

"You're the kind of officer the Confederacy needs. You have the ruthlessness necessary to complete the objective even if it is at great cost, but also the pragmatism and foresight needed to see that it is done in the best possible way for the CIS. Though," the Harch's eyes flickered briefly to his shoulder. "You also have a habit of taking actions with no small amount of risk."

"In war everything comes with some degree of risk," Vader replied smoothly. "Only a fool thinks they can negate any possibility of failure on the battlefield."

To that Trench could only chuckle in agreement. Vader smiled behind his mask. In the battlefield known as politics the greatest victory was winning people over to you, even if all you did was leave a favorable impression. Regardless of what else came out of this meeting, he would call this a victory.

More importantly, it had illuminated a few things for him. Trench's questions had given him an insight into the admiral's own impressions of his colleagues. From the looks of it, Trench was displeased with how other Confederate officers had conducted themselves in the field, either through incompetence, excess or even both. Without a doubt Vader reminded him of General Grievous or Asajj Ventress; a mysterious figure whose only recommendation for command was the word of Count Dooku. One only needed a passing glance at their careers to see the worrying implications. Ventress for her repeated failures, and Grievous for turning so many successes into outright atrocities that could have easily been avoided. Having two such generals in high positions was enough to cause problems; having three could court disaster.

"Now, I do think it's time I get to the official reason for this meeting," Trench said, pulling out a holodisk from his desk and sliding it towards Vader. "This contains the details of your new command and assignment. Study it well, you'll have your work cut out for you I think."

Vader took the disk and slid it into his personal datapad, skimming over the contents briefly to get a rough idea of what he was dealing with. "Task Group 'Rancor', numbering approximately eighty vessels, survivors from Jabiim and Muunilinst… Admiral, is this an entirely new formation?"

Trench nodded, the apology written on his face being genuine. "Sadly. I attempted to protest, seeing as you are a newcomer, but the politicians were insistent that their new war hero have a command as fast as possible, even if it meant scraping together a half assed fleet from forces that have no experience working with each other."

Vader's lip curled in distaste. Damned politicians and their games… "At least the organic captains will have some combat experience under their belts if nothing else… and thank the Force my first assignment is to drill them into shape. I'd question the civilians' sanity if they expected me to win them a battle with these forces in their current state."

Trench nodded in wholehearted agreement. "Win a simple skirmish and suddenly they think you're Revan reborn," he quipped. "Regardless, you'll need to set out immediately to assume your post. You'll be conducting drills around Randon while also protecting the supply chains that pass through there. It's close to the front, but the fighting there has been light. It'll be a good chance to break them in."

Vader nodded, quietly hoping that no more supposed glory came his way for the duration of this assignment. Fighting a war with an experienced and reliable force was one thing; doing it with troops who'd never met each other before and had already been smashed in previous engagements was another.

"If that will be all then?" Vader asked, eager to get started. He was going to busy in the foreseeable future, without a doubt.

"Yes, dismissed," Trench said. "Good luck, and may the Great Weaver smile upon you."

With that the Sith lord offered a salute before turning and leaving the office. Soon he'd be back in familiar and comfortable territory. Even if it was a ragtag one, he now had a command of his own, and all the responsibilities that came with it. He was going to have his work cut out for him whipping this fleet into shape. He grinned.

It certainly beat wasting away in this building at least.

* * *

 _Jedi Temple, Coruscant_

It was almost too much, Yoda thought, as he gave the eulogy.

Before him was a depressingly familiar scene. A multitude of robed figures were gathered in one of the vast halls of the temple's Mausoleum, all of them radiating solemnity and world weariness. Well over five hundred Jedi of all stripes were gathered around a single coffin, which hovered over the niche in the floor which would hold it until either the end of time or the erosion of the temple. The coffin was symbolic however; no matter how much they might have wanted to it had been impossible to recover Aayla Secura's body, not without causing even more loss of life.

"An example to us, you were," Yoda's weathered voice echoed through the Mausoleum, barely hiding the sting he felt in his heart. "A being possessed of more courage and integrity, hard it would be to find."

How many? How many students had he lost like this? Qui-gon, the closest thing he would ever have to a grandson, killed like an animal. Dooku, like Qui-gon almost a son to him, lost to the throes of the Dark Side and turned against everything he had stood for.

And now Aayla, that bright and beautiful child who had always been eager to learn, to grow, to do what was right. Now just another corpse in an ever-growing mountain of death and suffering.

"Died how you would have wanted, you did," he continued. "To defend those who could not defend themselves, quick you would be. Even quicker, to demand justice and what was right."

His Jedi were all bowing their heads, the emotion of it all becoming too much for some. He spied Quinlan Vos in the front, openly weeping. He would have to offer counsel to him especially, seeing as the Cathar had been Aayla's master before she became a Knight. Mace stood next to him, the Haruun Kal native putting his hand on Vos's shoulder in a small measure of comfort.

The trio of Tano, Skywalker, and Kenobi stood further up in the bleachers, but he could see they were no less distraught. Little Ahsoka held her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Kenobi's brow was furrowed and his eyes downcast, while Skywalker sat with his fists clenched.

Too many Jedi had already been lost in this war, but Aayla's death was a blow to them all. She had been an unwavering star, a source of inspiration for many of the younger generation. A friend to many more.

A star that had been snuffed out far too soon.

"Missed by us, you will be," he said, he pronouncement seeming even more poignant with every head that nodded in agreement. "But take heart, we shall. Departed from this world you may be, but gone you are not. One with the Force, you are, forever removed from the torments of this world. Meet you again, we all will, when our time arrives."

He paused, gathering himself, before giving a solemn nod to the Temple Guards standing at each corner of the coffin. They would be the ones to lower it and seal the opening shut. "May the Force be with you, brave Knight."

With that the coffin was slowly lowered into the floor, two slabs of intricately carved metal sliding out from within the floor to cover the space. They shut with a resounding _clang_ , the pillar of light which emanated from all Jedi caskets being hidden away. A final source of light to guide Aayla Secura's soul to the Living Force.

Yoda's eyes blinked rapidly as the crowd dispersed. Even after 900 years, it was so, so _hard_. Even if he had been forced to let go of dozens, maybe hundreds of bonds forged with his fellow Jedi during his tenure, the loss of each one was like a fresh wound to his heart.

He would be recomposed soon, he'd had plenty of practice he reflected somewhat bitterly. Tomorrow he would be the solid and unflagging rock which all Jedi could lean on in their time of need.

Tomorrow he would. Today, he would let himself acknowledge the immense grief he felt. Not just for Aayla, but for every living being who died in this senseless war.

The war. Yoda's eyes narrowed as his thoughts turned towards it, particularly towards the being he was certain had killed Aayla Secura.

 _A hero, they called him,_ Yoda thought, his walking stick creaking as his grip tightened. _Spread wanton death and destruction, a hero does not. Feed on the darkness present in all beings' hearts, a hero would not._

A hero would not do those things, no. But a Sith Lord would.

Darth Vader's visage floated in his memory, the abominable imitation of a Sith War Droid drawing forth both dread and uncertainty from the Grand Master.

Even from afar Yoda sensed the turbulence of the Force around that being. The crashing waves of the Living Force fell about him, and Yoda also did not have too look far to sense the insidious undercurrent of the Dark Side flowing forth like the vilest of inks. It had banished any lingering doubts in his mind about the survival of the Sith. Dooku could pin all of the medals and accolades he wished upon his newest pet; it would not be long before the galaxy saw just what sort of monster had been unleashed upon them.

 _Growing in strength, the Dark Side is,_ he thought solemnly, gazing at Aayla's resting place one last time before beginning to make his way out of the Mausoleum. Most of the Jedi who had attended were already gone, those that remained having been particularly close to her. He made sure to stop and offer each of them words of comfort, especially Quinlan. He could not deny that it hurt to see that usually bright and mischievous soul so darkened by loss and grief. He was not more concerned because he knew that the Cathar had his friends to help him piece himself back together.

They would endure the coming troubles, Yoda knew, as they always had. It would be hard, and there would be more death and tears before it was over, but by the Force they would still be here at the end. Where the Sith had raw power and cunning, the Jedi had the strength created from their bonds, and the will to carry on regardless of how bleak things seemed.

 _Strike hard and fast, our enemies will,_ he thought, before his eyes hardened with the durasteel resolve that had steered the Order for a millennium. _And survive, we will. Survive, we must._

* * *

Author's Note:

Poor Bly. I don't normally regret making characters go through hardship, but I'll admit I almost felt sad for him while writing his scene. Almost.

I think Yoda is my favorite Jedi to write for; he's that old as dirt grandpa with wisdom you wish you had, but he can still knock you on your rear if you get too uppity. The eventual encounter between him and Vader is going to be fun.

The scene between Vader and Trench took a bit of doing; I spent a whole month trying to figure out how I wanted that thing to go. I finally got something I'm satisfied with, but yeah. Probably the most enjoyable part of this chapter for me though. Also a hint at what Vader will be doing next. He's indeed going to have his work cut out for him, training an entirely new formation. And that won't be the only thing giving him headaches...

Someone mentioned that it seemed odd for Vader to reach Rear Admiral for a minor victory, and it's a good point. Dooku needs as many pets as he can get to keep the Jedi occupied, and the Confederacy has been so starved for good news that Vader's victory got far more attention than it normally would have. Though to be fair to Vader, what he accomplished was no small feat. His forces took the system in two days for starters, and when the Republic launched its counterattack he sank or captured all of their combat vessels while only outright losing one of his own. He'll have too perform much greater feats in the future if he wants to keep advancing like that, but for the moment its enough to get him noticed and put on the board.

Hannibal was indeed an inspiration for the battleplan (though admittedly so was Legend of the Galactic Heroes :p) Coming up with your own battle plan for a story sounds really cool, until you realize that you can use existing plans from history and it looks way better than anything you could come up with.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I look forward to seeing you all at the next one!


	6. Chapter 6 The Precipice

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars

Ch VI: The Precipice

 _C.S.S._ Ambitious _, in orbit of Randon, Randon System_

Randon was an important planet for the C.I.S. Located at the hub of several trade routes and serving as a flourishing center of commerce and business, it was a prosperous and peaceful world. The investments of multiple corporate entities, and the proximity of Hutt Space, had led to those same entities investing heavily in the security forces of the planet, particularly the navy. While the planet would never have the resources or wealth to project power into neighboring regions, she boasted first rate dockyards and orbital facilities to house a respectable defense fleet. When Randon had declared for the Confederacy, those same dockyards almost immediately began servicing Confederate ships, and the system itself formed a vital supply depot for the Southern regions. When the Confederacy had controlled them, anyway.

It was for these reasons that High Command had deemed it necessary to position an eighty strong fleet of ships in the system to bolster the planet's defenses. If Randon ever fell, it would spell the end of any dreams to reopen the war in the Southeast.

At the moment none of that was a concern to the overall commander of C.I.S. naval assets in the system, Darth Vader. While lately his time had been occupied with either fleet dispositions, simulation results for his still drilling troops, or convoy schedules for supplies destined for the front, he had elected to put all of that on hold to focus on a more… supernatural, area.

The confines of the Sith's quarters were filled with silence save for the humming of an active warship. The Sith himself sat in a specially made hyperbaric chamber installed not even a month ago for his use, his normal helmet and mask absent. Had anyone been able to see within the capsule they would have beheld a pale, scarred face, adorned with a rare look of serenity as the cyborg drifted on the currents of the Force. He had cast his consciousness into the depths of the Dark Side, allowing the coldness to act as a salve to his body and the crushing pressure to act as a testament to his strength.

 _Just as the tides rise and fall, so to do I draw breath,_ he thought, punctuated with a deep inhale followed by a cleansing exhale. Had anyone else been there, they would have seen the shadows rise and fall with his breath. _Strive not to be a predator, become the deep itself._

The air within Vader's quarters became unnaturally heavy and still, just like the bottom of the deepest ocean. Light receded in favor of shadow, which was in turn leashed to the will of the Sith. They writhed and stretched as he wished, like the currents of the deep making their own way and ensnaring anyone or anything foolish enough to be trapped in their grasp.

 _Be as the deepest depth, let no light escape._

 _Let only the strongest survive the majesty of my whim._

 _Let none dare defy it._

 _For just as the depths, so to am I sublime._

Said so softly, the seemingly self-aggrandizing verse was more akin to a fervent prayer. It was a request, a call for power, reflecting the deepest fear of all those who tread the path of the Dark Side.

The loss of power, and the abandonment of the shadows.

Over and over the Sith chanted this verse, something which had come to him in a flash of inspiration during his earlier meditations. Whereas before the Dark Side had seemed to struggle, to scoff at his lack of anger or even passion, now it slithered and snaked about his form eagerly. For him it would not stoke a flame, but would instead fill the deep. If it could not bask in the glory of rage then it would bathe in the coldness of hunger.

He hungered for power, he hungered for safety, he hungered for _victory_. For what else could something as unstoppable as the deep achieve if not that?

His answer would not come, as the stillness was broken by an insistent beeping. Vader's eyes flew open as he returned to his sense of self. For a moment he simply sat, regaining his breath as if he had just come up from a very long dive. He quickly realized that the temperature in the hyperbaric chamber was even colder than normal, and his breath came out in heavy wisps of fog. Manipulating the controls to replace his helmet on his head, the Sith saw that the beeping indicated a transmission from the bridge. He idly noted that the time was 0530.

 _Ominous metaphors later, business of the fleet now._

With a push he accepted the call, seeing the visage of the tactical droid which acted as his second in command. It was the same one which had been with him at Phindar.

"Admiral," the droid said in its monotone voice. "I apologize for the interruption, but we've received a priority-one transmission from the Admiralty. They request you answer as soon as able. Also, the latest drill results came in."

"I see," Vader replied, exiting the capsule and moving the call to the comm. device on his desk. "I'll take it in the bridge. What of the results?"

The droid's eyes flashed as it processed the data, sending it to his datapad ahead of time so he could read the full report later. It was catching on to his habits quickly.

"With this latest simulation, the fleet defeated the opfor primarily through application of the Base Strike Doctrine and use of light ships as raiding elements while the heavy ships stayed concentrated in their role as the main combat force. Final results tally at fifteen allied light ships damaged, nine destroyed. One cruiser was destroyed, with three needing time in drydock. One carrier was also damaged, none destroyed."

Vader nodded, reminding himself to debrief his captains over this later. "And enemy losses?"

"Thirty light ships damaged, fifteen destroyed. Ten capital ships damaged, three destroyed. Opfor planets Alpha through Delta were captured, with all being held against counterattack. Your surprise at the end of the simulation accounted for half the casualties sustained by our forces."

 _They're getting better,_ Vader thought, pleased even if the casualty counts were higher than desired. _At the beginning the fleet wasn't even able to maintain cohesion once I introduced the factor of surprise attacks by Y-wings._

And now they were beating back surprise hot jumps by a Republic battlegroup in each system. While he still wished that the casualties were lower, it was progress. Things would likely be different when he led the fleet in actual engagements: then they would be acting out his tricks instead of trying to counter them.

By now Vader had exited his quarters and was making his way to the bridge, holding a portable communicator in his off hand to continue the conversation. As he made his way through the halls, he saw various droids going about their tasks while the organic crew began their shift change. Those organic sailors whom he passed quickly saluted, more energy in the movements than when he'd first been put in charge of them. They had come a long way from the dejected, broken soldiers he had been given two months ago.

At first, they had resented his authoritarian method of command, and there had been much shouting (on their part), cursing, and intimidation by way of (nonlethal) telekinetic strangulation in the beginning. But soon the sailors began to see their commander in a different light; there was still some fear of his looming presence, but it was also mixed with a healthy amount of respect for Vader's meritocracy and his willingness to listen to subordinates if they had a good idea. His swift and complete (again nonlethal) liquidation of officers deemed totally incompetent also played a part. Even if he instilled the fear of the gods in his subordinates, he also imparted in them a drive to improve and earn his respect. And earned it they had, both through the hard work of the organic sailors and the sleepless nights of the officers as they brainstormed ways to beat his simulations without his help.

The result was a force that, while untested, was nonetheless as ready for battle as Vader could make them, assuming they entered battle now. He personally hoped that Task Group Rancor would have more time to train and iron out the last kinks before they saw action, but he knew that fortune was not always so kind.

Shortly he was at the door to the bridge, and was greeted with a shout of "Admiral on deck!" by one of the B2 guards. He waved away the salutes of the organic crew, focused on the hologram standing next to his tactical droid. Coming to a stop, he gave a salute to Vice Admiral Trench, who offered one in return.

"Vice Admiral, I wasn't expecting a call," Vader began. "It must be urgent."

"Yes, I will get to the point," Trench said in Basic, his voice and face grave. "We've lost control of Ryloth, and Wat Tambor was captured."

The organic crew members went stiff upon hearing that, and even Vader's eyes widened in surprise. Not at Ryloth's fall, everyone knew that had been bound to happen any day now, but at the capture of such a prominent Confederate.

"I was under the impression that Tambor was ordered to flee and make his way here," Vader said. "Was his craft intercepted?"

"From what we know it never left the planet," Trench said, his own confusion at the situation evident. "Regardless of how he was captured, the fact remains that he is now in enemy hands. This cannot be allowed."

Vader nodded, already knowing where this was going. "You want my fleet to get him back."

"With all due haste," Trench said. "I know you wanted some more time to train up your forces, but yours is the only significant force close enough to act in time."

"But what about Randon?" Vader asked. "If my fleet leaves, I'm not sure the defense forces could stand up to a determined attack."

Trench nodded, most likely having accounted for that. "While it doesn't appear likely that the enemy will launch an assault, I took the precaution of detaching one of my own squadrons. They can hold down the fort while you complete the mission."

"Very well, we'll leave immediately then," Vader said, already turning to give the orders.

"Before you do," Trench called, regaining the Sith's attention. "There is one more thing."

Vader tilted his head, wondering what that could mean.

"Command has seen fit to dispatch assistance for you in this mission," Trench went on, his tone apologetic. "Apparently it was thought best that Asajj Ventress be assigned to help you rescue the Councilor."

The cyborg put a hand to his hip. "Surely you are joking, sir."

"Afraid not, Rear Admiral," Trench replied wryly. "In fact, she should be arriving any second now. The president ordered her there post haste."

As if summoned by the vice admiral's words the I.F.F. of a fighter appeared on the ship's sensors. It was soon followed by the necessary clearance codes to land in the hangar. For his part Vader simply stared at Trench, somewhat indignant but knowing there was nothing he could do about this.

"I hope she has been made aware that this is _my_ fleet."

Trench nodded. "She is under your command, that was made clear to her. She seemed miffed, but I'm sure that your… abilities will keep her in line."

Vader shook his head. "We can only hope. If I may?"

The Harch nodded, offering Vader a salute which was returned. "Great Weaver smile upon you, Admiral. We're counting on you."

The transmission ended, and Vader turned to his crew. "Alert all commands, we're setting out as soon as everything is ready. Also, get Ventress' fighter stowed and have a droid escort her to my quarters."

"A droid, sir?"

It was a valid question, normally an organic noncom would be sent to escort a visiting commissioned officer.

"I'd rather the droid be chopped to pieces than one of my sailors," Vader said wryly, and all the crew nodded at that.

Better some B1 than them.

* * *

The droid, surprisingly enough, survived the journey to Vader's quarters.

Unsurprisingly, Ventress was fuming at the slight of having been given a B1 as a chaperone in the first place.

"Is there any reason in particular for you to think so lowly of me?" she asked through gritted teeth, the anger rolling off of her in thick, viscous waves. For most, it would have made for an intimidating and looming presence. For the Sith sitting behind the desk, it reminded him of an energetic and stubborn kitten.

"Surely you understand that it is a simple matter of expediency," Vader replied. "After all, I was given very short notice before being made aware of this vital mission."

The Dark Sider didn't seem to buy his explanation one bit, but the cyborg couldn't care less. He wasn't here to assuage some pup's ego. "Regardless, my fleet will assist you to the best of its ability. This is a matter of utmost national security after all. What intel do we have?"

Ventress pulled out a datachip, setting it on Vader's desk and sliding it towards him. He put the chip into a receptacle, and as a map of their region of the galaxy was projected Ventress began speaking.

"We know that Tambor is being transported back to Republic territory as part of a convoy. The councilor himself is being held aboard a _Venator_ , identified as the _Righteous_. There are two other _Venators_ in the convoy, but for the most part it consists of troop transports and medical ships carrying wounded troops."

"Easy targets, in other words," Vader mused, analyzing the projected pathway of the convoy. "They must have been hoping that the limited escorts would make us disregard this particular convoy. Do we know their stops?"

Ventress nodded, a smirk appearing on her face. It was a sadistic thing. "Our intelligence has learned that the convoy will be stopping at several locations along the recently occupied territories. It's only a matter of choosing where to launch our attack."

Vader's gaze never left the hologram as several systems were pinged to indicate the stopping points. Most of them were impractical for his fleet to attack because of distance and their time crunch, but there were a couple that he could work with.

"Milagro or New Cov seem to be the best places to stage an interception," he said after a few moments of silence. "However, something about this bothers me."

"What's to be bothered about?" Ventress said with a raised eyebrow. "We outgun and outnumber them by a huge margin, and they'll be moving slower than a snail's pace. This will be one of the easiest operations of the war."

"That is precisely why I am bothered," Vader replied, now locking his gaze upon the woman. "It makes sense that they would hide Tambor in such a lightly defended convoy, But to move so slowly? To stop at several planets along the way that even the dimmest commander would consider not entirely secure? This does not indicate incompetence, but a trap."

"Are you suggesting that we should let this opportunity slip by?" Ventress said, her aggression plain in her posture and through the Force. "Don't forget that you've been ordered to carry out this mission by Dooku himself."

Vader stood up, easily towering over the pale woman. He matched her aggression with his own looming presence. His breath drowned out all sound, and the room began to darken and lower in temperature. "Do not forget," he drawled, his hand drifting to his lightsaber. "That you are under my command, and that this is my fleet. I will not shy away from this task, but I will also do it in the way that I deem best. You are here to assist, and _nothing more_."

He punctuated his statement with a slight pressure to Ventress' windpipe, even though his hands never moved from his sides. Not enough to strangulate, but enough to make breathing difficult. Her eyes were wide, one hand gripping her throat. Most likely she was surprised at how easily he'd broken through her defenses.

Concluding that his point had been made, Vader released his hold upon the Dark Sider's throat. The gasping gulp of air she took in was like windchimes to his ears.

"Now then, since we know about this convoy," he continued, as if the previous incident hadn't just happened. "I presume there are other similar groups of ships making their way back to Republic space?"

Ventress took a few more breaths before responding, her eyes holding nothing but malice but knowing better than to provoke another reaction. "Yes," she answered, her breathing returning to normal. "There are three other convoys leaving at different times from Ryloth, with similar makeups. They also have similar routes and schedules."

Vader cupped his mask's chin in thought. A plan was beginning to come together in his mind. "This information, I presume that it was from a very well-placed mole? One that I cannot be told about?"

Ventress nodded, some smugness evident at being able to deny Vader some information. Not that it really mattered. "Yes, even the President wouldn't disclose the identity of the informant to me. Which means that they must be important, and in a very sensitive position."

Vader nodded, having expected as much. He would have been told if the clone commander he had captured earlier had given up his codes. "Very well, then I believe I have a plan of attack."

The woman leaned forward, excitement now entering her posture. Vader mentally snorted; she was so much like a Kath hound.

"What is it, then? We need to get going as soon as possible."

"In due time, Ventress," Vader said, keying the bridge on his intercom. "You'll have too hear it with the rest of the officers."

His call was answered, the voice of his tactical droid coming through. "Inform the commodores that I have a briefing for them in thirty," he said. "Once that is done, get the fleet ready to sail."

Ignoring the droid's "Yes, admiral," Vader turned to Ventress, gesturing to the door. "Shall we?"

She huffed, but walked out of the door all the same, following after the cyborg. He could feel her glare the whole way.

* * *

Vader led the way to the tactical room close to the bridge. By the time the two Dark Siders arrived there were three holograms and Vader's tactical droid standing around a holotable. The three holograms were of organic Confederate commodores, each one in charge of their own squadron of twenty vessels and groomed by Vader himself in carrier operations. While standard Confederate naval doctrine had squadrons centered around a powerful battleship, Vader had instead organized them around the four _Lucrehulk_ carriers he had been given. A less heavily armed variant of the class, these vessels had expanded hangars in their rings, with dedicated facilities for housing and maintaining bombers and fighters. For this reason he placed high value on the ships, including them in the center of his task troup's battle doctrine. Combined with whatever small craft could be carried on his other ships, Task Group Rancor had a veritable swarm of droid fighters and bombers that could be sent up at a moment's notice.

All those present in the room saluted as the Sith lord entered, a salute he returned as he walked up to the head of the table. For her part, Ventress leaned against the far wall, not wanting to be too close to the crowd.

"Gentlemen, and ladies," Vader began, passing his gaze over everyone. "You all know why you are here, so I will get straight to the point."

He manipulated the controls, bringing up a projected map of the Southeastern territories of the Confederacy. Or what used to be, before they were steamrolled by the Open Circle Fleet. Four planets were pinged, each along the Corellian Run. "We have received intelligence that the Republic will move Wat Tambor from Ryloth back to the Inner Rim in two days. They are attempting to disguise this transfer by putting him in one of several lightly defended medical convoys. Unfortunately for them, we know both which convoy it is, and its scheduled route."

The projection zoomed in, various graphics appearing as Vader spoke. "The fleet will jump to Daalang, on the edge of our space. Once there, we will split the fleet into two formations. My Squadron will depart from the rest and head for its objective. The rest will move to Nexus Orta, smashing the Republic defenses there. There are only a handful of ships, so this shouldn't be an issue. Once that is done, the fleet will split into its composite squadrons and hit the other convoys. These diversionary attacks will be launched at New Cov, Druckenwell, and Paqwepor. Meanwhile, my squadron will intercept Tambor's convoy at Milagro, where we will recover the councilor before withdrawing to friendly space. The designated meeting point is Daalang."

The commodores all studied the projection, put on a loop once Vader's explanation was done. He could tell they had questions.

"We're covering an awful lot of distance, sir, and hitting multiple targets across a wide area," one of them, a human male, said. "Timing and coordination are going to be issues if we're separating."

"We have the exact schedules of the convoys," Ventress said from her spot, drawing everyone's attention. "So long as there aren't any issues in transit, this will go off without a hitch."

"Speaking of," another commodore, this one also a human male, spoke up. "Can I assume that we're hitting the decoys as well as the actual target to prevent the Republic knowing they have a leak?"

Vader smiled under his mask. His officers were sharp ones. "Yes, along with the practical reason that it's a perfect opportunity to play havoc with their logistics. To answer the other question, Command has sent another squadron to defend Randon while we're away. I've been assured they can hold the fort."

The third commodore, who had opened her mouth to ask about just that, closed it upon Vader's answer.

"This seems very much like a trap," the tactical droid said. "Is it truly wise to split our forces in this manner?"

Vader nodded. "I'm almost certain that it is, but we have little choice. Recovering the councilor is far too important."

"Even then," the first commodore said, pointing to Milagro. "Why commence the interception there? Milagro is awfully close to actual Republic space."

"It is, but it is also lightly defended, with most of their forces still oriented to Ryloth and Christophsis. The closest Republic forces that can respond to any of our attacks will be whatever they left as garrisons in the occupied systems. And those will be no match for even a single carrier group."

"I do have one more question," the third commodore spoke up. "Why exactly are these convoys moving so slowly? I noticed that each one is making several stops, even the actual target."

All eyes turned to Ventress, seeing as she was the one who had brought this information. She offered a simple shrug. "We believe they're picking up more wounded on the way. Apparently, there have been guerilla campaigns on the planets we're hitting, and the Republic's casualties haven't been light."

"Will we be lending any assistance to these guerillas?" the same commodore asked, which Vader nodded negatively to.

"No, we don't have the resources or time for that. Your objectives are to hit your targets, cause havoc, and then withdraw after half an hour of combat. Nothing more."

The commodores nodded, having expected that much. While it rankled to leave their countrymen in the lurch, they knew that too much was at stake to let mere sentiment guide their actions. And besides, just because they weren't liberating these planets now didn't mean there wouldn't be another chance in the future.

Seeing that his officers understood their roles, he concluded the meeting. "We leave as soon as all ships are ready. I have sent each of you your objective, it should be in your datapads now. Remember, while your goal is to cause havoc, do not overstay your welcome. Resistance is estimated to be light, but that doesn't mean things won't change. And above all, do not expect this to be easy."

There was a brief pause, before one of the commodores gave a wry smirk. "Easy left our vocabulary the moment you were made our commander, sir."

The other two commodores gave slight smiles at the woman's remark, while Vader's own smirk went unseen. "May fortune smile upon you."

The commodores all saluted, which Vader and his droid returned. "And may the glory of victory be yours," they chorused, before their holograms dissolved.

Vader wasted no time, turning and leaving from the room, the tactical droid and Ventress on his heels. "I want everything locked down, make sure the ammo and fuel is good for this mission and the return. Have our starfighter wings assembled in launch formation by the time we depart, and also send a notice planetside just what is going on. I don't want them panicking when we leave."

"Right away, sir," the droid said, sending out the orders through its connection to the ship even as Vader gave them. "Is that all?"

Vader tilted his head, before he glanced at Ventress. "Assign a fighter wing to Commander Ventress, and get her craft accommodated. Make sure it's operating at peak performance."

"How kind," she drawled. "If that is all, I'd like to go to my quarters. I also don't need a chaperone this time."

Vader nodded, and the woman briskly moved off. The cyborg and his droid watched her go.

"By my calculations," the droid said when Ventress had turned the corner. "She will be the cause of multiple headaches for us."

Vader mentally snorted, not disagreeing with the droid's assessment. Bold he may be, but hot-blooded officers with their eyes on glory didn't have a record of lasting long in his fleet.

"Let's just hope Dooku doesn't hold it against us if something happens to his pet," Vader replied, before turning to walk towards the bridge. "But never mind that, we have a fleet to ready."

* * *

And so, with little forewarning or time to prepare, Rear Admiral Vader's fleet left the Randon system for its new, vital mission. The fleet moved to Daalang as a single unit before departing as Vader had planned. For their part, the rest of Task Group Rancor caught the Republic forces by surprise at Nexus Orta, destroying all enemy ships in the system for no losses. Wasting no time, as they knew how tight the clock was, they proceeded to split into their composite squadrons and move towards their objectives, each group's journey lasting about a day. Arriving at precisely the same time as their targets, each carrier group of Vader's fleet wreaked havoc, destroying the convoy defenses and eliminating all non-medical ships. Out of all of the squadrons, one frigate had been lost. It was a stunning victory, even for the victors themselves.

After completing their objectives, these three carrier groups of Task Force Rancor were able to withdraw in good order as planned, eventually meeting up at Daalang. After an excursion which had lasted three days, their part was over.

As for the carrier group directly under Rear Admiral Vader, things would take a different turn.

* * *

It's been a while everyone. I apologize for this particular delay, I didn't foresee the amount of attention and energy my capstone would require. That was during the Fall, and by the time Spring rolled around I was further delayed by a combination of personal issues and focusing heavily on my schoolwork to dull said issues.

But, that's all over now, and I am a college grad. I figured that with that I'd run out of excuses to put off writing, and thus, here we are.

I will admit, most of this is a single stream of consciousness, as it almost completely deviates from the original outline I had. The only piece of that outline which survived is the fact that Tambor needs to be rescued, and that Vader is about to launch a daring campaign. Reckless would be a word many would use.

The chapter is brief, and I do feel bad after you've all waited so long (and to those of you who've been patient with me all this time, I truly thank you). Rest assured that the next, while it may not be very long, will be much more action packed.

I hope you enjoyed, and I look forward to seeing you all next time.


	7. Chapter 7 The Nightmare of Milagro

Ch. VII: The Nightmare of Milagro

 _C.S.S._ Ambitious, _en route to Milagro_

Through the wild and surreal trails of hyperspace a group of twenty Confederate warships made their way to Milagro in a formation shaped like a three-sided pyramid. A single squadron, it consisted of a screen of fifteen _Munificent_ Class frigates and _Recusant_ Class destroyers. The _Munificents_ , well-known for their adeptness as raiders and advance scouts, made up the outer walls of the formation, placed to serve as flankers and support for the more powerful ships. The _Recusants_ , with main guns meant for a heavy cruiser mounted on their prows, were alongside the frigates. With a _Munificent_ not having the firepower to go head-to-head with a Republic star destroyer, the _Recusants_ were there to provide hardness to the Confederate screen. They weren't meant to fight a Republic capital ship on their own either, but as part of a formation such as this one they could do significant damage.

At the center of the pyramid were the five Confederate capital ships, the lynchpins of the force. Four of them were the venerated (dreaded by the Loyalists) _Providence_ Class cruisers, including the flagship _Ambitious_. Possessing the speed of a cruiser and the armament of a star destroyer, they had a well-earned reputation as the tip of the Confederacy's spear. While their turbolasers, missile and torpedo launchers were all powerful and deadly, the true power of the Confederate cruisers lay in their midships. On both the port and starboard sides, heavily armored and shielded gun decks housed five proton cannons apiece. These cannons, even more powerful than their planet bound cousins, could pierce the strongest shields, shred the strongest armor, and obliterate the deepest fortifications. One round was all that was needed to wipe an entire city block from the map, or shear the bridge tower off of a _Venator_. So far, the Republic had no answer to these guns except to evade them. Their greatest handicap was that they were kept in fixed gun bays on the port and starboard sides, limiting their firing arcs. Something that had been exploited in the past.

Within the last capital ship lay the true strength of the Confederate squadron, the source of its moniker as a carrier group. The _Lucrehulk-C_ Class was a more cargo-oriented variant of the heavily armed battleships of the same class. The cargo this specific class carried was not the unending droid hoards, however, but rather thousands upon thousands of droid fighters. _Vultures, Hyenas, Troikas_ _1_ _,_ and various organically-piloted small craft were neatly packed into the carrier's cavernous hangars, ready to launch at a moment's notice either through the two main openings at the end of each arm or through numerous launch tubes located along the edge of the ship's ring. A Confederate carrier could easily put five thousand small-craft into the void in seconds, and supplemented by the already numerous compliments of the other ships this made for any Loyalist fighter wing being outnumbered by several orders of magnitude.

From the bridge of the _Ambitious_ , Vader stared out upon this force and the blue madness of hyperspace which lay beyond. Around him the bridge was mostly silent, the crew working diligently to ensure that nothing catastrophic happened while they were in transit to their target. He approved of the lack of chit chat; the last thing he wanted was to die because of a simple mechanical or systems error due to lack of attention.

He smiled as he took in the crazed blue lines and glimpses of a damning void that made up the vista of hyperspace. Most beings avoided looking directly at it for fear of Hyperspace Madness, but he found it pleasing. There was something roguish and gallant about trusting the fate of a campaign, of your very life, to the whims of a dimension that no one truly understood. That, and it was beautiful in its own way. The pallet of blues and whites and blacks flashing by in an infinite loop made for quite the sight.

Shaking his head at the errant thoughts, the Confederate Admiral checked his holowatch. It was set on a countdown for the ETA, a countdown which was becoming increasingly smaller.

"Status report," he called out, wanting to make sure there were no missed issues with the fleet.

"Sir," the tactical droid replied, its eyes flashing as it ran through the systems. "All sections report optimal conditions and combat readiness. No serious issues have been discovered."

Vader nodded, pleased. "And the fleet?"

The droid's eyes flashed again, for a longer period this time. "All ships report combat readiness. C.S.S. _Reaper_ reports a connectivity issue with some its fighter wings, but aside from that there are no immediate concerns."

"Good," Vader said, his smile widening under his helmet. "It seems we're as ready for the Republic's trap as we can be."

The tactical droid (he really needed to come up with a name for it) clasped its hands behind its back, nodding its head in agreement. "Indeed, sir. By my calculations there is a considerable chance that intelligence's numbers were misleading, at the very least."

"My thoughts as well," The cyborg replied. "There will almost certainly be a Jedi or two among the enemy forces. This will not be as simple as Ventress' smash and grab."

"How is she faring, by the way?" Vader asked.

"The commander has settled into her position well enough, surprisingly," the tactical droid said after a moment. "She has spent most of the past two days running simulations for her part in the operation."

Vader nodded, approving of Ventress' dedication. She was still hotheaded and mildly disrespectful, but he could ignore that in the face of her genuine desire to do well and succeed. She took her objectives seriously, if nothing else. Hopefully her battlefield record would not come back to haunt her in this battle.

"Let us hope her practice pays off," he said, leaving the matter. "What do you think of my prediction regarding Tambor's actual location?"

It was a thought that had occurred to him once they had split from the rest of the fleet, and the closer they got to their target the more convinced he was that he was right. He already believed the Republic had more than a few extra ships waiting for him, why not add this bit of subterfuge on top of it?

Essentially, the prediction was that the Republic had decided to stick Tambor in a ship aside from the obvious location of one of their _Venators_. Intel's findings be damned, it was what Vader would have done if his defenses were so light, especially if he knew the enemy was going to hit him and hit him hard.

"It is not outside the realm of possibility," the tactical droid answered after a moment of number crunching. "The chances of your prediction being correct increase if the ones who orchestrated the trap are the Open Circle Fleet's regular commanders."

That would be a trick from the playbook of those two. Vader had studied the battles of Obi-wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker multiple times, and his conclusion was that Skywalker was a mad daredevil. Kenobi was the only one who could target his madness into something useful.

He both dreaded and anticipated their eventual meeting on the battlefield. Hopefully that meeting wouldn't involve testing their swordplay.

"Indeed," Vader replied, banishing his errant thoughts. "I just hope they aren't here in person. I'm perhaps a bit green to be taking on such veterans."

Before the tactical droid could respond, most likely with a dry remark about his current record for Jedi killing, a warning was announced by a technician stating their imminent arrival.

"Battle stations throughout the fleet," the tactical droid declared without prompting (it was getting better and better at predicting Vader's orders). "Fighters have priority for small craft launches. Spool up the proton cannons and ready thrusters for maneuvers."

A shrill alarm blared throughout every ship on the fleet, organics and droids alike rushing to their positions. Last minute checks were run on small craft before their launch, while bulkheads were sealed and security details readied for possible boarding actions. At the same time boarding craft carrying entire battalions of battle droids were primed, their black forms merely waiting for the go ahead to launch. The main guns on the prows of the screens whirred to life, while in the gunbays of the cruisers the proton cannons hummed ominously as their ammunition racks cycled the opening round. Onboard the carrier, droid fighters and bombers cycled into their launch tubes, their engines humming as they readied to sortie.

For a moment the everything seemed still, the tension thick and oppressive as everyone readied themselves for the coming crucible. It was a moment both terribly long and all too short.

The blue insanity of hyperspace retreated, and soon battle was joined.

* * *

"Launch."

Asajj grinned at the simple command, gunning the engines on her distinctive _Ginivex_ fighter out of the launch tube. Upon exiting from her mothership, Ventress unfolded the fighter's sail, and what she saw made her whistle.

Vader clearly hadn't been exaggerating when he talked about the carrier group's efficiency. Already there were thousands of fighters and bombers in the void, arranged into attack formations and making their way to the scrambling Republic ships. And there were thousands, _thousands_ more just waiting to go.

With a longing look at the shrinking dots of the first wave, Ventress put her own craft into a holding pattern above the _Ambitious_. Much as it rankled her, and no matter how much pestering and attempted strong-arming she did, Vader had not budged on keeping her out of the initial attack. Logically she knew it wasn't her mission, but her blood sang at the thought of crashing into the enemy's fighter formations, of cleaving a fiery swathe through the Jedi's slaves.

Speaking of, she took a look at the sensor telemetry provided by the capital ships, and quickly grimaced. That… was quite a few more combat vessels than intelligence had accounted for. The enemy easily matched their own force in terms of quantity, and the number of _Venators_ was double their own capital ships. Perhaps this was the Force chiding her for being so gung-ho with this mission.

Her comm. pinged, and upon answering she was greeted with the death rattle of Darth Vader's breath.

"Ventress," he said, the baritone voice betraying none of his thoughts. "It seems we'll have too up your timetable. Even with our predictions, there are still more ships than we anticipated."

"Fine with me," the Dark Sider replied, none too worried about her own prospects. "I'm not sure how many of the transports will actually break through if we go now though."

"No worries," Vader said, garnering an unseen raised eyebrow from Ventress. "The enemy's numbers will not be too much of an issue."

"Oh?"

Ventress sensed a savage anticipation from her fellow Dark Sider, and even though she was thousands of meters away it caused her to shudder. Her master had said that when he first met him Vader's presence in the Force was muted, describing it as akin to looking at something through a distorted glass window.

She felt that assertion needed a slight reassessment, because what she felt now was almost as oppressive as when he had loomed over her in his quarters, every inch a Sith Lord.

Secretly, in the depths of her deepest thoughts, Ventress admitted that she was afraid of this man and what he could do.

"It's simple," the Confederate Admiral said, either oblivious to her feelings or more likely not caring. "The enemy thinks their numbers give them an advantage, but all they've done is give us more targets."

With that the channel was closed, leaving Ventress none the wiser as to how the Confederates would get out of their current predicament. Nonetheless, she decided to put her trust in whatever Vader's solution turned out to be, knowing that she had her own part to play.

It was only when she was redirected to link up with the boarding transports as they were launched, that a quick look at her sensors gave her an idea of how they were going to offset the Republic's numbers.

"That clever bastard."

* * *

 _C.S.S._ Ambitious

"Second wave has reached their positions, flight commanders report readiness."

"And so, they sit in our jaws," Vader said idly, gazing at the projected layout of the battlefield. He despaired slightly at the predictability of his opponents.

It was a well-established fact that most Confederate formations up to this moment had utilized a _Lucrehulk-B_ as their lynchpin. These ships were best suited for the big gun battles that had dominated the war so far. They were big, heavily armed, and not did not carry as heavy a compliment of small craft as a carrier variant. Which meant that most Confederate formations did not have the sheer number of fighters and bombers, and the enhanced power projection that came with them, as a carrier group from Task Group Rancor.

This meant that Vader could not only launch an all-out attack with thousands of his small craft, he could also send another formation of equal size as the first to menace his enemy on the flanks. And if those flanks happened to consist of helpless transports with nowhere to go…

"Enemy ships are breaking off from their main formation," an organic operator called out with growing excitement. "Around three quarters are holding their positions facing us."

Vader smirked at the eagerness of his crew. Their enthusiasm was infectious. "Status of our first wave?"

"First wave has made contact," another operator said. "Enemy small craft have engaged, but we have a 5:1 superiority."

That the Confederate forces still had enough reserves to launch another two waves of equal size to the ones they already had went unsaid.

"Tell Ventress to get ready to fall in with the boarding transports, they'll be launching shortly. Meanwhile, maneuver our cruisers into formation Zeta, order their starboard proton cannons targeting systems to be slaved to ours. Status of the observation droid?"

"In position, Rear Admiral," a droid said as the cruiser shuddered, the _Ambitious_ and her sister ships already presenting their starboard sides. "Targeting data is being sent now."

Normally, the proton cannons were not able to make the best of their exceedingly long range, being hampered by a targeting system that made Vader want to snap the neck of whoever had designed it. With telemetry from a recon craft lazing far from the battle, however, they were able to make up for the system's deficiencies, and get the most out of their main guns.

"Excellent, prepare to fire on my mark," Vader said, the lights on the bridge soon flickering as the proton cannons began powering up for their first shots. In the gun bays of each cruiser the cannons adjusted their barrels down to the smallest fraction of a degree, the targeting computers on board the _Ambitious_ ensuring that each cannon was aimed for a different target. The starboard gun bays of the Confederate cruisers were soon filled with a deafening hum as twenty cannons each with the power to wipe a city block from existence were readied to be unleashed. Even if the Loyalist capital ships had been able to detect the locks, there would have been little they could do about it. They had not planned on the enemy having so many _Providences_ lined up, and the most certainly hadn't counted on an enemy who had worked around the well-known issues with the targeting systems. It meant that up until now, range had never been an issue for Loyalist ships when fighting the Confederates. And one distinct advantage a _Providence_ had was that its proton cannons far outranged the main guns of a _Venator_.

"Targets dialed in and cannons loaded," the tactical droid said, its eyes flashing. "When you are ready, sir."

For a moment the bridge was silent, everyone tensed in anticipation. Outside the opposing forces' fighter wings clashed, brightening the space around Milagro with the flairs of dying pilots and disintegrating fighters. Droid bombers made daring runs on Republic warships, attempting to be as much of a nuisance as possible to their larger targets. Damage was done, but even with proton torpedoes there was only so much they could do. On the bridge of the _Righteous_ , the Loyalist flagship, a previously serene Jedi called out in panic for his fleet to take evasive action.

It was too late.

"Fire."

Aboard each Confederate cruiser five thunderous _booms_ sounded as their proton cannons fired the opening volley. Lights flickered (and in a couple of cases even shorted out) as their main armaments sounded off their contempt for the very idea of Republic shielding. As for the Republic ships themselves, it was but an instant before most of them were hit. Two of the shots had outright missed, while four more had been slightly off the mark and hadn't hit the exact spot they were aiming for, but the rest were dead on. _Venators_ and _Acclamators_ belched fire and smoke as they struggled to compensate for the sudden massive damage they had received. One Loyalist cruiser even started drifting, her engines having been totaled by a very lucky shot.

The crews of the Confederate ships let loose a cheer. They knew their enemy hadn't yet been beaten, but no one could deny the Loyalist forces had been given a bloody nose. Already the enemy formation was breaking ranks, abandoning cohesion in favor of avoiding being hit in a similar manner to their sister ships.

The proton cannons fired again, most of their shots hitting the same ships as before. Many of these went dark as their power cut out and were considered mission kills, while others had their bridges sheared off and were rendered largely ineffective. A _Venator_ snapped in half as her superstructure was shredded. The Loyalist vessels that were able began to advance, hoping to get in range and let loose with their own turbolasers. Some even tried firing a volley without the aid of their targeting computers, which had predictable results. Notably, among the surviving vessels that had advanced was the _Righteous_ , the ostensible target of the Confederate assault.

"We can fire one more volley," the tactical droid said. "After that the cannons risk overheating if not given a cool down time."

"No matter, their formation has been sufficiently disrupted," Vader said. "Launch the next wave, and send in the boarding transports. Target is the _Righteous._ "

The orders were relayed, and soon even more droid fighters and bombers were soaring through the void, both to reinforce the ongoing clash of the first wave and to give cover to the boarding craft which were in their midst.

"Sir, Republic ships aren't stopping their advance," an organic operator called out. "They'll make contact with our screen in ten."

"Detach _Hellhound_ and _Blackstar_ to reinforce, tell the screen to engage in a fighting withdrawal. They do not need to stand their ground, only delay the enemy."

Again, the orders were relayed, and the tactical droid leaned towards Vader. "The inclusion of the _Righteous_ in their charge brings the chances of Tambor's location being a different ship up substantially."

"I know," Vader replied, folding his arms. "But we planned for this anyway. We'll know which orders to give as soon as we have our answer. Give ourselves away too early and the enemy might catch on."

The droid could only nod, and they resumed watching the readouts. They had done their part; the ball was in Ventress' court now. It was time to see if she could pull her weight.

* * *

Ventress grinned savagely as she gunned her engines, her fighter one of thousands of Confederate small craft hurtling towards the battered Republic fleet. Even as they attempted to break through the Confederate screen, which was keeping its distance and pouring out its own withering hail of turbolaser fire, the Loyalist ships were swarmed with droid fighters and bombers still intact from the first wave. The Republic's fighters were engaged in dogfights where their odds were five to one, at best. Even the vaunted flying of the clone pilots would only go so far before numbers crushed them.

In the distance she could see the specks of the other formation of Loyalist warships and transports that had been forced to watch as the main formation of their fleet was systematically mauled by the combined arms of Vader's proton cannons and his vast small craft formations. The warships protecting the transports couldn't do anything to help their comrades either; in their minds the only thing keeping the medical and supply ships from being massacred by the other droid swarm watching them was their presence. Strangely Ventress could not taste the despair that their enemy must surely be feeling, but it didn't matter. She'd savor their pain as she danced with her blades.

Bursts of flak began appearing in the void among the droid formations, meaning they had entered the enemy's AA envelope. Fighters assigned to protect the transports, not including her own, kept in tight groupings around their charges. Some of them disappeared in brief flashes, absorbing the flak. No enemy fighters even got close enough to fire upon the transports; they were busy enough just trying to survive. Explosions and vaporized corpses were testaments to how well that was going for the clones.

She had not been sure what to make of this new Admiral's view on space warfare, but she had to admit that it was getting results. A confused enemy thrown into disarray, scores of their proud ships drifting or outright annihilated, and what's more a full quarter of their fleet pinned down by a vast formation of small craft that had yet to even fire a shot. It was clear that part of Vader's success came from the fact that the Jedi weren't used to an enemy who favored such tactics. Most Confederate commanders were corporate enforcers who were used to getting their way from the safety of a big battleship. The Loyalists, stupidly enough on their own end, had not counted on facing an enemy that knew the true strengths and weaknesses of his own ships and used them accordingly. They had not faced formations of _Munificents_ and _Recusants_ that flowed like water and refused an upfront engagement. They had never faced an enemy who understood that the droid fighters and bombers were good for more than a suicide charge at the beginning of the battle.

She wouldn't call this a victory yet, but she could get used to giving the Jedi and their lapdogs such thrashings if this is what it looked like.

Her sensors beeped, reminding her that they were approaching their target. The _Righteous_ loomed ever larger in her field of vision, and even if it had been bloodied by Confederate fire it was still impressive to look at. She began to slow her fighter down, allowing the boarding craft to continue on their trajectory without her. The droids would be the first boots on the ground, and it wasn't like she could get in without them seizing the hangars first.

Ventress had protested to Vader, saying it would be more efficient if she was put on one of the boarding craft, but his reply had been simple.

"The droids can be easily replaced, but you will still need a way to get off the ship."

It was a simple argument, but one that she couldn't refute either.

The transports made contact, spearing through the outer hull of the _Venator_. Unseen by Ventress dozens of super battle droids activated and detached from their wracks, opening fire on clone security teams still preparing to repel them. Ventress circled around the Loyalist ship, lazily avoiding the flak being thrown up as she did so.

Before long she received a ping indicating the droids had seized the hangar, and with a grin she angled her fighter to make a landing. The ship's aa still tried to stop her, but the Force was with Ventress in that moment, and soon she had landed her fighter and was walking through scorched corridors littered with clone bodies. She had refused an escort, telling the droids to keep the security teams pinned down and distracted. They'd only slow her down, anyway.

 _The prison block was this way,_ she thought, casually deflecting a blaster bolt back at the clone who had tried to ambush her. He fell with a thud, smoke rising from his helmet. A few minutes later, another lunged from a doorway, vibroblade in hand. He registered his lost limbs before a red flash overtook everything. Right after that, a potshot from around a corner. Dealt with when her lightsaber was thrown through the wall and impaled the clone's heart.

On an on Ventress went, the sounds of firefights a distant thing. Her only company were the clones that tried, and failed, to kill her. Some died instantly, some wished they had. They all met the same fate. At first the Dark Sider was entertained by these little acts of defiance, but soon she grew bored with them.

Halfway to her destination a squad of clones rounded the corner, rearing back in surprise as they nearly ran into each other. She grinned as she ignited her lightsabers.

The troopers opened fire, but Ventress was like a dervish, dancing through their ranks with a graceful ferocity. Two went down in an instant, their heads flying.

One of the clones rushed her with a vibroblade, roaring in challenge. Ventress scoffed, angling her blades to sever his arm in several places as she easily dodged the thrust. Another tried to hit her from behind with the butt of his rifle, earning him a saber through the heart. Another earned a gash on his side, causing him to roar in pain and fall to the ground.

Two of the clones pulled back, turning their rifles on full auto and letting loose. Twirling one of her crimson blades in rapid fashion to deflect the bolts, the Dark Sider grabbed one of the dead clones with the Force, throwing him at the two clones and throwing them off balance. With a lunge she was upon the two before they could recover, and soon their rifles were silenced.

She glanced back to the one survivor, trying to crawl to a dropped rifle. She put a stop to that, the heel of her boot digging into the trooper's back. His pained cries were like soothing midsummer's rain to her ears.

"You know what I don't understand about you clones?" she asked idly, twirling one of her lightsabers. "You just don't give up. No matter how many droids we throw at you or how many of you fall, you just keep trying to resist. I would find it admirable if it wasn't so Forcedamned _annoying._ "

She punctuated her statement with a stomp of her foot, making the clone cry out and at the very least cracking his spine.

"Why in the galaxy do you fight? The Republic doesn't care about you, the Jedi order sends you to your deaths almost daily, and for what? A rotting government too stubborn to admit that it's already dead? Citizens who watch the war from the safety of the Core Worlds like it's some kind of holodrama? It'd be sad if it wasn't so funny!"

The clone tried to say something, but all that came out was a pained gurgle. Curious, Ventress eased up the pressure on his back, not that it would do much for his pain. "What was that?"

"…Frack you, Separatist bitch."

She noticed the clone holding something, and her eyes widened at the sight of a frag grenade being cooked off in his hand. She jumped back, pulling the Force around her body like a cloak. It was just in time as the grenade exploded not a moment later. Once the dust settled, Ventress was greeted by the sight of a thoroughly ruined corridor and scraps of white armor and unidentifiable bits of flesh.

For a moment she simply stared before spitting on the ground.

"Ma'am," a mechanical voice said, and she turned to see a troop of B2s standing at attention. They had clearly seen combat if the scorch marks were anything to go by. "Our forces have secured the detention block, but Councilor Tambor was nowhere to be found."

Ventress scowled but wasn't too surprised. Vader's prediction had proven correct. "Well, it seems they hid him on one of the other ships. Have you been able to find out where he is?"

"He is not here, ma'am."

Ventress' scowl deepened, this time in annoyance. "Of course, he isn't. I'm asking which ship he's on now. Unless you can't figure that out?"

"Councilor Tambor is not onboard any of the ships, Ma'am."

"What?" she said, eyes widening. "Our intelligence said he was here; I was guaranteed that it was correct!"

"The Councilor is not here," the droid repeated, unable to perceive Ventress' surprise. "We have checked the enemy records, and it appears that he was sent out with an earlier convoy."

 _What is going on?_ Ventress thought, her mind a storm of panicked thoughts. _Master assured me that the intelligence was correct, he trusted the source absolutely!_

And yet that source had proven wrong, in spite of everything. This entire mission had been a waste of time, whoever had sent that intel she would be sure they-

"No," she said, as a horrifying realization dawned on her. "This isn't just bad intel. We've been tricked."

It all made sense, the ludicrously vulnerable convoys, the opportunity that seemed too good to be true. It had all been a ruse meant to draw them out. It twisted her gut to admit it, but considering this, it was best if they retreated while they still had the chance.

"We need to leave," she said, turning to the droids. "Have all forces engage in a delaying action. Take as many of the clones with you as possible."

Suddenly the Force screamed at Ventress, and without hesitation she vaulted to the left. Where she had been standing an azure blade buzzed through the air, impaling the droid she had been speaking to before returning to its owner's outstretched hand. The Dark Sider landed in a crouch, igniting her lightsabers and baring her teeth. The droids immediately opened fire, but it did little good as the Jedi (how had she not sensed them?!) deflected the shots. It was not just one Jedi that stood there but three, and they immediately went to work on the battle droids, tearing them apart in a similar manner to how she'd killed the clones earlier.

Where there had been a squad of super battle droids, now there stood the three Jedi, two wielding blades of blue while the last wielded a blade of vermillion. To Ventress' credit she merely assumed a ready stance in her preferred form, watching warily as the Jedi focused their attention on her. One of them, appearing to be a Knight, glanced at the bodies of the clones before looking the Dark Sider right in the eyes.

"You're going to pay for what you did to these men."

"Better than you have tried," Ventress said with a sneer, twirling her blades. The air became rank with the stench of ozone as the warriors sized each other up. Subtly, she began keying in the comm device on her jaw. "But please, don't let that stop you."

Ventress hoped they didn't see her bravado for what it was. Mediocre commanders they may be, but no one took on three Jedi Knights at once without some forethought. And even if she had prepared for such an engagement, she did not have the time for this right now.

With a cry the three Jedi lunged forward, and Ventress once again entered a dance that was certain to test her skills.

* * *

Vader observed stoically as the Loyalist force continued to exchange fire with his screen. He had trained his crews well; they were putting up more than a good fight. Almost no enemy ship was without damage and a few were confirmed mission kills. Even if the Confederate screen had taken some losses of its own, they were holding steady. The presence of the two cruisers _Reaper_ and _Blackstar_ provided an extra punch, finishing off Republic ships that had been withered away by the efforts of the frigates and destroyers.

If he so wished, Vader could easily turn this encounter into a tactical victory, especially if he was able to pick off some of the supply ships.

"Incoming message, priority one," a droid said. "It's from Commander Ventress."

"Put it on," Vader said, hoping for good news. If she had already found Tambor then maybe they could get out of here before the rest of the Republic's trap was sprung.

What came on the speakers wasn't the sound of Tambor being rescued, but instead the growls and grinds of clashing lightsabers. The organic crewmembers glanced at one another, not liking the implications. Vader's brow furrowed, knowing immediately that something was wrong, when he began to hear it.

Interspersed between the blades, a series of clicks, exhaled breaths and grunts could be heard, appearing to be at random to any normal listener. But not to a Sith. Vader knew this code; it was something developed by the ancient Sith to communicate secretly if normal means were impossible or undesirable. A corner of his mind was impressed that Ventress knew it, considering how old the code was.

He listened to the sounds and quickly deciphered the message, and his admiration for his colleague's knowledge quickly turned to alarm.

"Pull our ships back," he said suddenly, surprising the bridge crew. "Get them back to our position, double time!"

"Sir?" the tactical droid asked. "We have the enemy off balance, why-"

"New contacts!" a sensor tech shouted, drawing everyone's attention. "Scanning… Republic ships, coming out from the second moon's shadow! A full battlegroup!"

Indeed, coming from behind the planet at rapid speed and launching fighters were three dozen additional Republic warships, a screen of _Acclamators_ centered around a core of _Venators_ that were already angling their guns even though they were far from within range.

There were no panicked cries from the orderlies, they were much too professional for that. But the tension on the bridge spiked noticeably.

"It would seem they've sprung their trap," Vader said gravely, turning to the tactical droid. "Tambor was never here, that was Ventress' message. This was a setup, to draw us in."

"Do we cut our losses and retreat?" the droid asked, cocking its head.

"Not until we've recovered Ventress," Vader replied. "Obnoxious she may be, we're the ones who sent her in there. We need to at least give her a chance to get out."

"The enemy's positioned so that they can easily overrun us unless we concede our position at the jump point. To do that is to trap ourselves here," the tactical droid said, its eyes flashing as it ran countless calculations. Were it within its programming Vader might have thought it sounded desperate. "Any standard engagement ends in our defeat, no matter what we do,"

"Then we'll just have to make sure we don't fight a standard battle, won't we?" Vader said rhetorically. He turned to the bridge crew, knowing that they needed his guidance. "Open a channel to all friendly ships."

"Y-yes, sir," the orderly said, looking slightly ashamed of the stutter. Vader didn't blame her for it. Soon he was keyed in to the fleet, and the orderly nodded once.

"I can sense your fear," Vader said once he knew the fleet was listening. "You are right to be afraid. I'm sure that you can see what the enemy has brought to bear against us. Don't banish that fear or smother it. Seize it. Grab it with both hands and sharpen it to a razor's edge. It will be your most potent weapon for what's about to come. The Loyalists are fighting to gain victory over an enemy they already see as beaten. They look at this and don't see a military operation, but pest control. Their motivation is weak, because they aren't fighting for themselves."

"We are fighting for ourselves. We are fighting not to win, not to secure glory for the nation, but to survive. That is why, if you follow my orders, we will win, and more importantly, we will live. That is all."

Vader had the channel closed, pausing as he saw the organic crewmembers. Their faces were set with grim determination, and in the Force he could feel the fire of their resolve burning like the hottest lightsaber. It was not just on his ship either. He could feel it throughout the fleet. They refused to be cowed, even in the face of such odds. They knew that they had a chance, not just because they were good sailors or because of some strategic advantage.

They had faith because they were his sailors. Not their planets', not the Confederacy's, but his. Because they knew that Darth Vader would do everything in his power to get them to safety, regardless of what stood in the way.

If this was pride, then Vader understood why it was so easy to fall into it.

"The ships have fixed their formation, sir," the tactical droid said. "The fleet stands ready for your orders."

The Sith turned to the tactical layout, painting a grim picture of their situation. He felt himself grin.

"Alert all commands," he said, leaning over the holotable. "This will be a fight to remember."

* * *

Footnotes:

1\. A name I thought up for the tri-fighters. I thought it was... weird that they didn't have some sort of designation like the _Vulture,_ so I've given them one here.

Author's Note: What's this? An update that doesn't take half a year? Madness!

I'm liking this new drive I've got all of a sudden. You can thank Sabaton for helping me type up this chapter.

Someone brought it up in a review about how dispersed his forces are, but Vader is actually breaking one of Yamamoto's fundamental rules about carrier warfare. Never disperse your forces. One reason the Kido Butai was able to run rampant across the Pacific and Indian oceans for a time was because their concentration of force meant the Allies didn't have any force of sufficient strength to hit back with. Until Midway, that is. On that note, it's actually rather sad how the Americans refused to grasp the implications of carriers on naval warfare up until Pearl Harbor left them with nothing else to work with.

That's not to say that Vader can't get away with it once or twice when he has too, but luck is a cruel mistress when entreated too often.

I was always bothered by how the proton cannons the C.I.S. used were wasted in the Clone Wars series. Their very first scene shows them knocking an _Acclamator_ out of the sky and forcing the others back into orbit, and we know from the movies that at least the _Providence_ Class carries them (even if they were used in a very, very stupid way). Other than that, they get used as background pieces for the Jedi or clones to smash, at best. As you can see, I've tweaked with them a bit, hopefully in a way that doesn't make them _too_ overpowered. And you can bet that when Vader gets the chance he'll be having words with the targeting computer's programmers and Confederate R &D about those lovely guns.

Aside from that, I'm sure you can all guess who's responsible for this little mess Vader's found himself in.

Leave a comment, and I'll see you all next time.


End file.
